The Better Part of Valor
by thestarkswillendure
Summary: The day Barry Allen is assigned to Caitlin Snow's case begins like any other.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Coarse leaves brushed against his skin, the arid weather long having dried them out, the grass below his feet just as bone dry and summer-scorched. It seemed eerie that a place so green could feel so dead, as if the memory of what had occured here still lingered.

Sweat gathers at his brow, unmoved by the slightest of breezes, his flannel shirt damp against his skin. _It's too hot_ , Barry thinks.

He sweeps the area once again with a critical eye, glancing back down at the photograph in her file. Her car, a dark cyan Volkswagen beetle, no longer occupied the scene, long having been towed away after being examined for evidence, but undeniably it's the same area. The same tree from the photograph rests in the background, a rough whirlpool of a pattern warping the bark.

"I would have told you, if I'd known," Joe offers quietly, beside him.

"It's fine. We weren't close," Barry replies, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Barry remembered her well though, the quiet, pretty girl in all his science classes. They'd worked together in the lab sometimes, the air between them almost vibrating as they bounced ideas off one another at a rapid pace. He'd liked her, she was kind and witty and perhaps the most pragmatic person he'd ever encountered. She was the kind of person that you found yourself constantly aware of because you wished, that in some other timeline, they meant something more to you.

Still, they'd never quite become friends, her walls always high and barring entry, the death of his mother still a raw wound despite the years. Even now, the pain threatened to pull him under at times but at least, he had Joe and Iris and Wally and even Eddie and Cecile to help him through.

He glanced back down at the file, clammy fingers swiping over the picture on file.

Who did Caitlin Snow have in her time of need?

* * *

The day Barry Allen is assigned to Caitlin Snow's case begins like any other.

He stumbles out of bed late and rushes through his morning routine, hopping out the door, still tugging on his sneakers, keys and wallet spilling out of his hands.

He all but sprints to the precinct, running through the streets of Central City as fast as he could, neatly dodging every obstacle in his path. Work was close enough that he'd never felt like he needed a car but on days like this, he thinks, having one would be useful.

He comes to a stop before the entrance of CCPD, fixing his shirt and waiting to catch his breath. He couldn't afford to look like he'd just rolled out of bed, even though it was an accurate assessment, Singh would have his head.

With a deep breath, Barry rights himself and shoves his way through CCPD's doors, looking up to find -

"Captain Singh!"

Singh spares him a reproaching stare, giving the officer at his side a brief word before he turns on his heel. Over his shoulder, he calls.

"Allen. My office. Now."

Barry groans, dragging his feet as he follows the Captain into his office. He shuts the door behind them, fully expecting to be berated once again for his tardiness but when he glances up, he finds Eddie and Joe already in the room. He sends them a questioning glance, the expression mirrored on their own faces.

"Gentleman," Singh begins, settling into his seat, hands steepling together under his chin, "This case I'm about to assign you is… extremely sensitive. Missing persons case, first opened three years ago, undoubtedly a forced disappearance. We have the initial 911 call on record, the vic thought someone was following her and evidence does show signs of a struggle. When officers arrived on the scene, she was gone, her car abandoned on the side of the road. We didn't have many leads we could follow at the time and the longer the search dragged on - well, let's just say we've been looking for a corpse."

Singh stares at each of them, hard and assessing. Picking up the folder before him, he spins it and drops it before Joe, file open to the first document.

"This morning we received something, lab is still examining it but the DNA is a match. This girl is alive out there somewhere and she's sending us a message. Now, I want this handled as…"

Singh's voice faded into the background as Barry's eyes found the picture in the open file. The gasp escapes him unbidden and Singh pauses, frowning.

"Something you'd like to add, Mr. Allen?"

Barry, almost mesmerized, reaches over Joe's shoulder, unclipping the picture from the file. Warm brown eyes, brown curls and a sweet smile stare back at him.

"Caitlin," he remembers.

Eddie shifts in his seat, looking up at Barry.

"You knew her?"

"We went to school together," Barry explains, almost absent-mindedly. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to hurt her."

The room is silent for a moment, Barry still engrossed in the picture and the others still examining the expression of Barry's face. Singh coughs, eyes flickering down to his desk for a moment.

"Barry…" he calls, waiting till he's received his attention, "I need to know that this won't be a conflict of interest for you."

Barry blinks, picture in hand falling to his side.

"No, of course not. I'll cooperate with the investigation, anything Joe and Eddie need," he promises.

Singh shakes his head.

"I don't need you to cooperate, I want you to lead it."

Almost immediately, they begin to protest, Eddie and Joe's voices echoing Barry's when he points out that he isn't a detective, that he can't possibly take lead on a case.

With a single wave of his hand, Singh silences them.

"Officially, Joe will be lead detective on the case but I want Allen running point on the interviews. He knows the girl, that will bring some assurance to her family and it gives us some more insight into her life. We need every resource we have at our disposal."

Joe nods approvingly, seeming to find the logic in that. Eddie, like Barry, doesn't seem very convinced but he too acquiesces.

"Great. I'll have the lab send you all a copy of the results and I'll let you all get to work."

Eddie and Joe stand, Joe tucking the folder under his arm and together, they file out of the room.

"Oh and Allen? Don't let me catch you being late again," Singh calls from his office.

Barry sighs, _so close._

Outside, Joe pauses, sharing a glance with Eddie.

"Barr, we still have some paperwork to finish from our last case. Why don't you start going over the case details?" he suggests, holding the file out to him.

"I'm fine, Joe. You don't have to treat me with kid gloves," Barry says, taking the file from him and clipping the picture back into place.

With a turn on his heels, he makes his way to his lab, settling in a chair by the windows to review the case notes.

 _Case Number: N56-320-7_

 _Date Filed: May 19, 2015_

 _Classification: Missing Persons_

 _Name: Snow, Caitlin_

He scans details of her person, nationality, sex, height, weight, physical characteristics, marveling at just how small she is compared to him, a stature of only 5'4 (163 cm) and 123 lbs (56 kg). The 'distinguishing features' section didn't note much of interest but that wasn't unusual.

He notes from her 'related persons' section, the one reserved for immediate family, partners and offspring, that she was once engaged. Beside her fiance's name, Ronnie Raymond, was the date of his death (December 11, 2013), approximately two years before Caitlin's disappearance.

 _Brief_ , he thinks and then realizes he spoke too soon as he turns the page.

 _Circumstances of Disappearance: Last seen May 19, 2015 off of the I35_ _turnpike, coming from a friend's house (Cisco Ramon). Vic called precinct at 10:39 pm, reporting her car had broken down and that she believed someone was following her. Signs of a struggle corroborate, foul play suspected due to damaged catalytic converter and broken driver's window. Fight moved into the woods as vic tried to run away._

 _Evidence: Blood found at the scene matching vic's DNA (Sample #1456-CS51), two sets of footprints in the mud catalogued at approximately size 6 women's and size 10 men's (Image #4957-678 and #5789-642), personal items left behind in vic's car: purse, cell phone, charger, makeup bag and wipes, hairbrush, wallet with ID, cash, credit and cards intact (Inventory Box #1612-G5), pepper spray found under the car with vic's fingerprints (Item #6895-23)._

 _Recorded call (10:39 pm, May 19, 2015. Lasted a minute, 52 seconds. #MP-CS-051915)_

 _Officers arrived on scene at 10:56 pm._

The more he reads, shifting through images of the crime scene, the clearer the image forming in his head becomes. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he powers his computer, wanting to hear her voice in those final moments before her disappearance. Idly, he thumbs through the depositions of her family and close friends, noting that the officer on the case had found Caitlin's mother to be 'wholly unaffected'.

Searching through the system, he looks for the recording mentioned in her file. It's short like the file mentions, barely 1 MB of data but there's a feeling of dread in Barry as he clicks the play button and the recording begins.

" _911, what's your emergency?"_

There's a pause and then Caitlin's voice comes in a rush, firm but clearly panicked.

" _My car broke down on I35 and I don't feel safe, I think there's someone following me."_

" _We're tracing your call as we speak. Can you tell me your name?"_

" _Caitlin. Caitlin Snow."_

" _And can you describe the car you think is following you?"_

" _I - I don't know. Its black… And it has tinted windows, I think. I'm not good with car models."_

" _That's okay. Can you tell me when you first noticed it?"_

" _I- fuck! This stupid car-"_ A pound comes over the line, probably Caitlin hitting the wheel if Barry were to guess. Her voice sounds weaker now, coming in dry heaves.

" _Ma'am, we've already dispatched officers to your location. Stay calm, help is on the way."_

Caitlin takes a deep shuddery breath, as if steeling herself and Barry can't help admire her resilience. When she speaks again, she sounds focused.

" _I first noticed it when I got onto the interstate but I'm sure it's been following me since I left my friend's house."_

The dispatcher begins to stay something, her voice drowned out by Caitlin's screams and the sound of shattering glass, distinct even though the line. The rest of the video is indecipherable, the ensuing struggle coming through in the form of grunts and pants, the dispatcher's voice faint in the background as she tells the officers en route to hurry. There's a shout at one point, clearly made by the perpetrator, because its deeper and followed by a muffled curse, the voice not belonging to Caitlin. The sounds fade after that, the silence that follows is deafening. It makes the hair on Barry's arms stand on end.

Barry rewinds, listening carefully for a hiss of a can, assuming the shout was the moment in which Caitlin used the pepper spray and took the opportunity to run. He replays that brief moment about a dozen times but finally he hears it, faintly, the spray from an aerosol can.

He plays the full recording again, listening closely for any other clues, heart clenching once again at Caitlin's scream. He wonders if they ever used voice recognition software to clear up the man's voice and resolves to speak to the officer on file. He's listening to the recording for the fourth time when Joe walks in.

"Hey, what have you found?"

Wordlessly, Barry hands over the file, starting the recording anew. Joe flinches a bit, hearing Caitlin scream and Barry knows, he just knows that Joe is imagining Iris in such a scenario.

The line clicks dead as the recording comes to an end and Joe sighs, hands coming up to scrub at his face.

He doesn't say anything because there isn't anything that can be said. Cases like these, like his mother's, they stayed with you, they haunted your thoughts.

Cases like these made careers but they tore at was the thing about cold cases, you couldn't count on new witnesses, new evidence, new angles to change the bigger picture. The picture was already set in its frame and like a curator, one could only look harder to spot the inconsistencies.

Barry would know, he glanced at the projector screen he'd pulled down over his investigation board. Even now, 18 years later, he was trying to solve the mystery of his mother's murder, trying to exonerate his father for a crime he didn't commit.

The details of that night remained seared in his head, the screaming, the open door, a dark figure running away in the distance as Henry Allen tried to shield his son from the sight of his mother's corpse.

"Where do we start, Barr?"

"At the scene of the crime."

* * *

 **NOTE: Guess who's back, back again?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Caitlin's mother is… clinical, to say the least.

Barry is by no means a stranger to Dr. Carla Tannhauser, having followed her research since his early days in college but it's a surprise for him when he finds out that she's Caitlin's mother.

Dr. Tannhauser looks a lot like Caitlin, brown curly hair, high cheekbones, same petite frame but she radiates a kind of coldness that Barry can't seem to reconcile with Caitlin, despite knowing she was certainly capable of it. Caitlin, despite the walls and the icy exterior, had an inherent warmth to her, a kindness to her, something which Barry had always admired. Dr. Tannhauser seemingly had no such warmth. Even her office, all glass and steel chrome, illuminated by the fading light of the sun, was deprived of any personal effects, the only indication as to who the office belonged to was a small framed photograph on the edge of her desk. A young Caitlin smiled back awkwardly, her small stature framed in by her mother and, Barry presumes, her father.

Dr. Tannhauser seems rather unimpressed at Barry's having gotten past her assistant, setting aside her files with a sigh, blue eyes piercing.

"Gentlemen, I understand you've been assigned to my daughter's case but as I told the previous detective, my daughter and I were… estranged for quite awhile before she disappeared," she pauses, eyes flickering down to her files. "Any information you may require, I suggest you speak with Mr. Ramon, he kept all of Caitlin's personal possessions when I terminated the lease on her apartment."

Joe blinks, bewildered and Barry processes this slowly. Cisco Ramon. The friend that had last seen Caitlin.

It seemed strange to him that she hadn't kept Caitlin's belongings. Wouldn't she want to feel close to her daughter after everything? That they'd even been estranged seemed a foreign concept to Barry, his entire life having been a long arduous trial in trying to get as close to his parents as possible.

Taking a deep breath, he steps forward, fighting back the urge to cringe when Carla's sharp gaze turns to him.

"Dr. Tannhauser, I knew Caitlin. We went to school together. I assure you I will do everything in my power to find her and bring her back," Barry promises earnestly.

She scrutinizes him carefully, looking for something only she knows. She must seem to find it because something in her expression gives, her face melting into something shadowed and weary.

Silently, she stands and makes her way to the windows. She doesn't speak for a long time.

"It's been three years, Mr. Allen. Do not make promises you cannot keep."

Barry glances at Joe, taking it for the dismissal it is. He's halfway through the door when she speaks.

"Nigel Cadrot…" she hesitates, clearing her throat. "My daughter came to visit me, about a year after her fiance died. She needed help with a serum she'd been working on. We got into an argument and Nigel, my research assistant, got caught up in it and I- I don't know what happened exactly but she left and he was furious… He quit shortly after."

Barry mulls that over, understanding what she's trying to offer. It seemed like a stretch but at this point, every lead mattered.

"I intend to keep my promise," he responds and she must understand that he means to look into it because she nods, glancing at him over her shoulder.

Barry blinks, seeing someone who wasn't really there.

* * *

Nigel Cadrot, it turns out, returned to Canada shortly after leaving Tannhauser Industries, having opened up a new lab in the past year.

Despite knowing the long shot that it was, Barry feels disappointed, like he's failed Caitlin in not solving her case immediately.

Still, Dr. Tannhauser gave no indication of the kind of serum Caitlin was working on and so he makes quick work of locating Mr. Cadrot's number.

He's expecting the man to be a lot more forthcoming than he is, given he's asking about a seemingly inconsequential conversation that took place approximately fours years ago, but instead he spends a total of ten minutes listening to Cadrot rant about technology and it's ever-persistent invasion of privacy, the lack of regulation for law enforcement both in the US and abroad and the rife egos of rich kids 'playing at doctor'.

"Why do you say that? Did you find Ms. Snow's work to be unfounded?" Barry asks.

"Unfounded?! What else would you call trying to slow cellular degeneration with transmuted radioisotopes? I can see why her mother never brought her into the company, the sheer egotism. That's what our conversation was about, I was telling her how foolhardy she was".

Barry doesn't quite believe that and even though he wants to correct him, that actually it has been proven that radioactive copper transmutations, at least, when bonded with the copper atoms in DNA, are essential for cellular functioning, he bites his tongue.

"Why did you quit Tannhauser Industries shortly thereafter?"

"Well, I realized I needed to make my own name rather than continue to work under another's," he replies rather snootily. Barry suppresses a snicker, imagining the kinds of things Caitlin said to him to have wounded his own ego.

"Well, that will be all for now, Mr. Cadrot. Thank you for your time."

Barry hangs up immediately, not wishing to hear anything else from that insufferable man. He looks down at his notes, the long stretch of white blurring before him. The crime board is sparse too when he looks up at it, only broken links where there ought to be a chain. He scribbles his new lead onto a post it and tacks it up, right next to Caitlin's photo. He didn't know how or why but he felt it in his gut, this serum, whatever it was, was important.

* * *

The case takes up every spare minute Barry has. He examines crime scenes and runs tests, he gets results that puts away criminals and gives closure to ailing families, he has dinner at the West house with Iris and Joe and Wally and Cecile, he visits his dad in Iron Heights. But rather than go home and rest, Barry stays and he works, digging and digging until he's found himself in a hole he can no longer climb out of.

He's good at what he does, he can tell a story from the way a wound is inflicted, the way clothes tear, the way a hand trembles and a smile tapers off. Small details are but a thread in a larger woven tapestry and Barry is good at unweaving them. Still, he's not quite so good at separating himself from the ones that hit too close to home.

He solicits Caitlin's research, everything Mercury Labs could give him, in addition to the notes Dr. Tannhauser had from when Caitlin visited her.

He familiarizes himself with the thin scrawl of Caitlin's handwriting, the slanted and overdramatic signature of her name on documents from Mercury Labs, the sheer weight of her research. She was… brilliant, her work transformative, even inspiring.

He wonders sometimes, late at night when he's still in his lab, flipping through her notes, if she ever found it difficult to go home. If she too liked to stay in her lab long after everyone else had gone home, working. Did she dread coming home to a silent apartment? He liked to think so.

Home to Barry had once been his childhood home, his parents still alive and free. Then, it had been the West house with Iris and Joe. To others, home was the place you walked to from the station nearby. Or the saved destination at the end of a long drive. It was a journey committed to memory, as easy as breathing or taking a step. But home, to Barry, was the people he loved.

No one awaited him when he went home to his loft.

His bed when he flops down is cold to the touch, even with the warm summer night breeze coming in through the window.

For a long time, he tosses and turns, mentally reviewing facts about the case until he slips into a restless sleep. He dreams of Caitlin that night.

" _Hey Cait, you want to hear a joke?"_

 _Caitlin glanced up, brown eyes bug-eyed behind her goggles, the tilt of her head indicating that he continue._

 _He smiles and launches right into the joke._

" _So a physicist, a chemist and a biologist visit the ocean. The physicist, fascinated, decides to study the fluid dynamics of waves. He walks into the ocean and never returns. The biologist then decides he wants to study the flora and fauna of the sea so he too walks into the ocean and never returns. What do you think the chemist does?"_

 _She scrunched up her face in thought, leaning down to make sure the solution was at the 250 ml line._

" _I don't know. What does he do?"_

" _After a long time, he writes down his observation. ''Biologist and physicists soluble in ocean water'"._

 _She laughs brightly, dissolving into quieter giggles when Mr. Nevins looks over at them sharply._

" _Alright, let's see if you know the punchline to this one. A neutron walks into a bar and asks how much for a beer. What does the bartender tell him?"_

 _Barry grins. He knew this one._

"' _'For you, no charge,'" he answered, slapping the countertop in the rhythm of the classic snare drum and cymbal. Caitlin groaned._

" _Nooo. That one doesn't count, I get to go again!" she argued, watching Barry add the solvent._

" _No way. You chose a common joke, I knew the punchline. You lose, Snow!"_

 _Caitlin pouted, Barry grinned. It wasn't often he got the chance to trade dorky science jokes with someone but Caitlin, at least, always seemed to enjoy them._

" _Alright, you get one more chance," Barry relents. Caitlin beamed._

" _Why did Dracula quit grad school?" Caitlin asks, looking sly, tongue in cheek._

 _Barry shrugs._

" _His next-generation sequencing results drove him bat ChIP crazy!"_

 _Barry groaned, shaking his head._

" _Biologists have the worst jokes," he mocks, chuckling at Caitlin's face when she turns to him in outrage._

 _He winks at her and grins, the plastic of his goggles digging into his cheek._

 _She reddens and turns her head, resolving not to speak to him for the rest of the class period. Barry tries to hide his smile and fails._

* * *

The hazy blue of day is melting into the soft shy orange of dusk when Barry arrives. Cisco's house is a modest bungalow with a gabled dark roof and a lush green lawn that reminds Barry a bit of the West house. A smile comes unbidden to his lips at the thought and he's still smiling softly up at the house when the door is yanked open.

"Can I help you?" the woman at the door asks, tucking dark hair behind her ear.

She's pretty, Barry notes, even with the narrowed dark eyes, full of wary. She's wearing a sundress, her feet barefoot, dark brown hair tumbling loosely down her back and over her shoulders.

"I'm looking for Cisco Ramon. Does he still live here?"

He smiles disarmingly, allowing her eyes to dart around his features. After a moment of hesitation, she turns halfway into the house and calls.

The man who comes to the door is just as dark in coloring, coppery brown skin, long dark hair and dark eyes. Barry's eyes flit down to the Star Trek t-shirt and the khaki bermudas.

"Yes?"

"Cisco Ramon. I'm Barry Allen, I'm here on behalf of CCPD. I've been assigned to Caitlin's case. Is this a bad time?"

Cisco stares and then with a start, steps back, allowing Barry to step inside the house. He follows the woman into the house, Cisco shutting the door behind them.

"This is my fiance, Cynthia," Cisco introduces, gesturing for them to sit. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh no, thank you. I was just hoping to ask you some questions. I'm sure you're aware that we've received communication from someone we believe to be Caitlin, yes?"

Cisco nodded, settling stiffly beside Cynthia, who nudged him gently, concern in her eyes. Barry glanced away, busying himself with getting his notepad out but still, he could see the way Cisco grasped Cynthia's hand, squeezing it gently before he turned to give Barry his full attention, nervous fingers coming up to tuck long strands behind the ears.

"Do you mind if I record this?" Barry asked, setting his phone on the table, the voice recording app open. Cisco shook his head and Barry pressed the button to begin recording.

"According to her file, you were the last person to see Caitlin on the night of her disappearance. Do you remember why Caitlin was here that afternoon?"

"My brother Dante, he died May 2014. Caitlin came to keep me company on the anniversary."

Barry nodded, scribbling that down next to the list of questions he'd compiled for this meeting.

"Did she seem off to you that day? Paranoid? Mention anything about someone following her?" Barry asked, eyes pinning Cisco in his place.

"No, no. She was supposed to call me once she got home but…." he trailed off, the unspoken ' _she never did'_ hanging in the air between them.

"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her?"

"Everybody loved Caitlin. She was difficult to get close to, didn't really let a lot of people in but once she did... there isn't anything she wouldn't do for the people she loved," Cisco grimaced, head ducking, his face shadowed by the curtain of hair.

Barry pursed his lips, eyes flickering to Cynthia, who sat with an impassive air about her.

"Was her mother included in that list of people?" Barry asked rather bluntly.

Cisco's head shot up, something akin to anger flickering briefly in his eyes. Barry had the suspicion that Cisco's anger wasn't meant for him. He gave Cisco a minute to collect his thoughts, swallow whatever bitterness rested between him and Caitlin's mother.

"Caitlin's relationship with her mother was… complicated," Cisco spat, as if restraining himself from using a stronger adjective. Or expletives.

"So I've gathered... You don't like Dr. Tannhauser, do you? Why?"

Cisco didn't even hesitate, the words bubbling up and pouring over his lips like acidic bile.

"You know what she said when they first told her Caitlin was missing? She said she'd probably run away. Can you believe that?! Like what kind of mother hears their child is missing and that's their first reaction? As if Caitlin was some recalcitrant child who hadn't gotten her way. And she didn't even want to keep Caitlin's belongings! Just terminated the lease on Caitlin's apartment and told me to pick up Caitlin's things or they were going to be donated," Cisco huffed a breath, Cynthia pulling him back into his seat from which he'd slowly risen as he ranted.

Barry watched quietly as Cynthia smoothed a comforting hand over Cisco's shoulder.

"I actually went to school with Caitlin," he offered, a ghost of a smile rising up on his lips when Cisco blinked in surprise.

Clearing his throat, Barry glanced at the list of questions again, discarding those that Cisco had inadvertently answered during his tirade. His eyes landed on the last one, bolded and circled in red.

"Can you tell me anything about the serum Caitlin was working on?"

Cisco frowned, brows drawing together in puzzlement.

"Caitlin never consulted with me about any serum. But, I mean, my field of expertise was always mechanical engineering," Cisco explained, frowning again. "Do you think whatever she was working on was important enough to someone that they'd kidnap her?"

Barry hesitated, unsure whether to share his findings with them but he got the feeling that if there was anyone truly desperate to find Caitlin, it was Cisco.

"When I visited Dr. Tannhauser, she mentioned that Caitlin had gone to see her for help with a serum. I've been looking at Caitlin's research, all the files I could get from Mercury Labs and it doesn't seem like it was an on-the-books project. Which means, she could have been gotten outside funding and solicitation. Did she, at any moment, mention meeting with anyone new?"

Cisco shook his head, looking crestfallen. "I'm sorry. I don't remember her mentioning anything along those lines."

Barry nodded and after a moment, rose from his seat. He thanked Cisco and Cynthia for hosting him and gave them his business card, promising he'd keep them informed. They bid him farewell and he left, returning to a home that wasn't really home at all.

* * *

 **NOTE: Guess who's back? Just a little clarification on dates because I'm getting lots of them from the canon universe. So December 11th was the night of the particle accelerator, I used that date for Ronnie's death and I used the date of Ronnie's canon death (May 19th) for Caitlin's disappearance. The Flash Wiki placed Dante's death (at least from Earth-2) in May so I stuck with that for the reasoning as to why Caitlin had visited Cisco. Caitlin visited her mom the November after Ronnie's death so almost a year later.**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. We're pretty much done with exposition and now we can get to the good stuff. Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Barry's feet pounded against the concrete, his blood pumping along to the rhythm of the music, a staccato of noise amplified in his ears. His problems drifted far behind him, kites on a string, harmless on their own but always at risk of being struck by lightning.

He'd needed this, the freeing feeling that came with running. Barry didn't really mind the feeling of the summer hot sun bearing down on him, it didn't compare to the feeling of the wind on his face, his arms, his legs. It didn't register, not like the beads of sweat he could feel rolling down his back, making his shirt cling to his body. Not like the ache in his legs, muscles still twitching from the adrenaline.

As he ran, he took in the wheat fields to either side of the road, bright and golden, stalks dancing against a backdrop of cloudless blue skies. In the distance, he could see the windmills, blades turning and turning in the air. It reminded him of that small town from his childhood, the one they'd broken down near on their way to science camp.

He keeps running until the mills fall far behind and the oceans of gold come to an end. The road is silent and still and for some odd reason, when he finally stops, he gets the strangest urge to just lay down on it and stare up at the clouds.

The thought comes unbidden to him, making him flinch. _Had Caitlin seen any clouds in the past three years?_

In the days since his visit to Cisco, Barry had found himself filled to the brim with pent-up frustration. With no new forthcoming information from Cisco about Caitlin's research, he found himself once again at roads-end

In an act of desperation, he'd requested the initial letter of contact, the one that had blown Caitlin's case wide open again. He knew, objectively, that the lab had already run every possible test but he couldn't trust that they hadn't overlooked something. Not when Caitlin's life, her freedom, depended on it. When the results inevitably proved what he'd feared (they revealed nothing more than what the original lab results had), Barry knew it was time to get out of the office.

Joe would have dragged him out anyways. He and Eddie had been complaining that Barry was getting too fixated on this case. Still, they hadn't gone to Singh's to get him removed from the case.

He thought back to the letter, the hastily scrawled cry for help, each letter written in different strokes of ink, sometimes blue and sometimes black, as if Caitlin had composed it in stolen seconds throughout her captivity. Her fingerprints had been found all over the letter and she'd even gone as far as leaving strands of her hair in the ziplocked baggie they'd received.

The baggie itself had been found floating through a small stream, picked up by some couple on a hike. It seemed like such a big leap of faith for Caitlin, hoping her only cry for help would fall into the hands of some well-meaning citizen who would, in turn, contact the authorities…

Except it had paid off.

And yet, Barry felt no more closer to solving the case than the first officer on the case had been three years ago. The stream itself wasn't particularly helpful, so many offshoots and sources, smaller streams feeding into it until it eventually joined the Central City reservoir.

Barry had spent far too many hours on Google Maps, painstakingly trying to trace back possible routes.

A loud honk startled Barry from his musings, the driver yelling at him to get off the road. He apologized quickly, stepping off the road. Digging into his pocket, he fished out his phone, squinting at the 4 missed calls from Joe and 3 texts from Iris.

He checks his texts first, huffing at Iris' demands that he come to eat dinner with them at the house (or else she was coming over to drag him from the lab). He texts her back rather than calling Joe, telling her to save him a place at the table. With a sigh, he begins the long run back, the beginning notes to Isak Danielson's somber ' _Ending'_ filling his ears.

* * *

When Barry arrives at the West home, Cecile is in the kitchen, directing Joe as he finishes up the potato salad. In the dining room, Eddie and Iris are setting the table, Jesse and Wally on the couch watching highlights from one of the World Cup matches.

"Hey!" Iris beams, looking up from her task, "There you are. What took you so long?"

Barry flaps a dismissive hand. "I was out on a run and I had to get washed up."

Joe pokes his head out of the kitchen, pointing at Barry approvingly. "Good. It's about time you got out of that lab and got some space from that case."

"Barry's working cases now?" Wally asked, turning his attention from the tv quickly.

"No," Barry interjects before Joe can speak, "Uh, it's just that I knew the girl so Captain Singh felt that would bring some comfort to the family."

Iris cocked her head, brown eyes wide and inquisitive, lips pursed.

"Did she go to school with us?"

Cecile cuts in then, bringing in the salad bowl and firmly shutting down any kind of shop talk. "You can discuss it after dinner. Food is ready."

Relieved to have been spared from answering too many questions, Barry follows Cecile into the kitchen quickly, maneuvering around her.

"Where's Joanie?" Barry asks, washing his hands at the sink.

"Some meeting for the club she chairs," Cecile replies, smiling at Barry over her shoulder. She pauses, her smile faltering as she scrutinizes him. "You okay? You look a little tired."

Barry shrugs, a wry smile on his lips.

Bracing himself on the countertop behind him, he sighed, closing his eyes, pinpricks of light appearing in sharp bursts against the black of his eyelids.

"What do you do when you're stuck on a case?"

The kitchen fell silent as Cecile considered his question, Barry trying to calm the racing thoughts in his head. A very small part of him, deeply frustrated and so so incredibly tired, wanted to cry. He opened his eyes, blinking quickly to get rid of the moisture that had begun to collect, Cecile watching him quietly.

"I step away from it and come back with fresh eyes." She paused and stepping forward, she rested a hand on Barry's shoulder. "It won't do your Caitlin any good if you aren't taking care of yourself first."

Barry releases a deep breath and nods, meeting Cecile's concerned gaze evenly.

"It also helps to familiarize yourself with the client's personal effects. People have the uncanny habit of leaving pieces of themselves lying around."

Barry gaped. Why hadn't it occurred to him before? Caitlin's possessions were just sitting in a box at Cisco's. He could ask Cisco for permission to examine them and get answers from the one person who actually had them.

Cecile pats his shoulder reassuringly, leading him into the dining room where everyone else has settled into their seats.

Dinner is a loud affair, as it usually is, everyone lost in their own conversations, the laughter and warmth pushing away Barry's troubles. Joanie joins them halfway through, bringing a box of leftover brownies and muffins with her from her club meeting.

Afterwards, Jessie suggests a board game, an idea Eddie immediately takes up and within minutes, they've set themselves up at living room table, Joe, Joanie and Wally joining them while Cecile keeps the peace. Barry takes the opportunity to slip out for some fresh air.

He finds the North Star easily enough, years of stargazing with his dad coming back to him. A lot of people believed Polaris to be the brightest star in the night but Barry knew that in reality, it only ranked about 50 in brightness. The rest of the Little Dipper was less visible, all the light pollution from the street and the city nearby making it near impossible to make them out.

He doesn't hear the door swing open behind him but he sees the light that spills out onto the grass before him, hears Eddie's laugh filter out from the living room, bright and loud.

"Hey," Iris calls out softly, settling beside him on the steps of the front porch.

He doesn't respond, ignoring her gaze as she turns to him.

"Talk to me. What is it about this case?"

Barry grimaces, something acrid and bitter building in his throat.

"I thought I could do this, find Caitlin, close her case… but I can't. I never could," he admits quietly.

"Because of your dad?"

Barry twitches, only slightly resentful of the fact that she knows him so well. Still, he nods sharply under her watchful gaze.

"I couldn't solve my dad's case. I still can't… and it's been 18 years. Caitlin's been missing for three years. What if-" he cut himself off, closing his eyes as a torrent of visions came to him. Visions of a future in which he failed to find Caitlin or found her too late. "What if I fail her too? What if something happens to her because I wasn't fast enough?"

Iris sighed, shuffling closer to him, her hand reaching out to grasp his. Her hand is warm and soft in his, small and familiar despite the years. He remembers how they used to fall asleep on the couch together, after Barry had come to live with the Wests, hands clasped between them.

"I don't believe that. Caitlin's case isn't like your dad's and she's still out there, fighting, helping the CCPD solve her case," Iris reasoned gently. "Besides, I have it on good authority that you, Barry Allen, save people. You changed our lives when my dad took you in. For the better."

Barry doesn't know how to respond to that.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Iris' face fall, a frown crinkling the smooth skin between her brows. She opens her mouth to speak and then hesitates, closing it again. Shaking his hand, she stands, pulling him up with her.

"Come on. Let's go watch Eddie lose at Monopoly."

* * *

Bright white lights flood the room, the overhead lights turning on as the automatic timer signals the start of the hour, illuminating finger-smudged glass walls and the lab beyond it.

8:00 am. Or was it 7?

Perhaps it wasn't even morning at all.

The babbling brook that runs through the enclosure is loud and cheerful, taunting the prospect of freedom as it comes through and leaves, hopefully into the wild. It'd been weeks now since the letter, sealed in its little baggie, had floated out through the crevice at the bottom of her cell. Months of painstaking planning just to write those few words with no guarantee that the letter would ever even see the light of day.

Day. It'd been so long since she'd breathed fresh air, felt the wind in her hair, felt the warmth of the sun on her skin. Sometimes, when the ventilators overhead whirred on, puffing air into the small of her room, she'd stand on her cot and tip her face to them, imagining she was standing on a tall mountain, where nothing and no one could harm her except nature itself.

But those were on good days. The days when she pushed herself to exercise, to tend to the plants inside her cell. The days she let herself hope that someday, this nightmare would be over.

Today was not such a day.

Today, the grooves she'd scratched into the glass with a nail from her bed frame in her earliest days, before it'd been confiscated, stared back at her, endless and ever-multiplying. The lumpy cot beneath her made her ache for her own bed, the paltry supply of reading material made her long for all her favorite books. She missed coffee, _good_ coffee, and her laptop and her lab. She missed everything about her life and the fact that she'd missed out on three years of it made her angry. It made her want to scream until every brittle emotion, every sharp burst of fear from the past three years coalesced into shards and became a weapon.

Her eyes turned to the camera in the corner, always watching, always recording.

Anger was going to help her make it of here, help or no help.

* * *

 **NOTE:** So this chapter was mainly a filler, just to really get into Barry's headspace and then introduce Caitlin's situation (which, if anyone watches The OA on Netflix, is inspired off that!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Barry stares at the neat pile of boxes sitting before him, taunting him. It's a fairly measly lot, he thinks, considering they were meant to contain the entirety of Caitlin's possessions.

Despite his initial fervor to get his hands on her possessions, once Cisco had handed them over, Barry had been overcome with a mild sense of trepidation. It felt intrusive, clinical even, the thought of picking apart Caitlin's possessions. Still, if there was even the slimmest chance that they could provide a clue...

The first three boxes Barry opens are lined neatly with Caitlin's clothes and shoes. Quality fabrics and a clearly sophisticated style, going by all the pencil skirts and pressed blouses, but hardly extravagant clothing. The next box contains all of Caitlin's documents: taxes and the like. He briefly skims these over, impressed but not overly surprised at how detailed and organized her finances were.

The next box he opens makes him pause. A small black velvet box rests on top, relatively inconspicuous as it sits amongst framed photographs and what seems to be photo albums.

He picks it up, thumb brushing over the soft material. He snaps it open.

Caitlin's engagement ring.

He's mesmerized for a moment, watching it glimmer in the light of the loft. When he takes it from its place, the engraving inside catches his eye. The initials seem worn, the ring clearly beloved. He settles it back gently into its case, setting the small box aside, a lump in his throat.

An hour later, he finds himself still working through the same box, hundreds of pictures spread out around him, photo albums lying open in wait.

Barry's seen it all. The baby pictures, Caitlin's first hand turkey, her first letter to Santa, the fake periodic table she'd made with her dad. He's seen the pictures of when she got her first bike at six, the signed cast on her wrist at eight when she fell off her bike. Ugly Christmas sweaters, learning to bake, winning her 8th grade science fair.

He sees pictures from their high school graduation, even finds their old yearbook. There isn't much from her college years but further on, he starts to find pictures of Cisco and Ronnie from her time at Star Labs. He bursts out laughing when he finds the Halloween photo, tears of mirth gathering in his eyes. Cisco's eyes are fierce as he stares into the camera, lightsaber poised to strike. Besides him, Caitlin stands in Leia's white dress, her hair styled in the ever iconic space buns, Ronnie at her side dressed as Han.

The last photo he finds in that album is simply Caitlin and Ronnie, smiling brightly at the camera, the sandy beach behind them stretching on endlessly.

He turns away after he sees that photo, finding himself a bit ill. Her whole life…

Her laptop, set carefully on his coffee table, catches his eye.

Pushing back against the couch, he stands and stretches, pulling it towards him. He waits what seems to be hours as it powers on and downloads over three years worth of updates. Suddenly, after an eternity, the cursor blinks up at him, prompting him for a password.

He enters 'Safe Mode' to activate the Command Prompt, bypassing the lock screen entirely and ending up on the desktop homepage, blinking at the multitude of sticky notes on Caitlin's screen.

They're fairly mundane things: a reminder to call and set up an appointment at the dentist's, what seems to be a reading list, notes on an article talking about the fusion and transmutation of molecular structures and a single solitary address.

He quickly looks up the address, hope swelling within him at the thought that perhaps he'd finally found a lead. The address turns out to be a cafe in downtown Central City.

It's not exactly the kind of hot lead he needed but it wouldn't hurt to follow up there anyways. He squints at the clock on the wall, calculating whether he has enough time to head out now. He's running out the door only five minutes later, having gathered his keys, wallet and phone.

Kava Cafe is a cozy little nook of a shop, tucked between an antique furniture store and an Italian restaurant. The window out front shows off a warm, brightly lit space, people reading or on their laptops working quietly, drinks steaming at their elbows. When he walks in, the smell assaults him, a mixture of cinnamon and caramel, vanilla and freshly-ground coffee beans. He's particularly enraptured by the display case of pastries, all glazed and fried donuts, fruit-filled pies and slices of cake; chocolate, carrot, red velvet, you name it.

He's pulled out his lemon-tart focused reverie by the barista behind the register.

"Hi. What can I get for you today?"

 _Huh. British._

Barry cleared his throat, pulling out his ID, "Hi. I'm with CCPD, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

The girl's face pales, a not uncommon reaction in his line of work. After a moment of hesitation, she nods and then puts up a finger, fetching her co-worker from the back to cover the register. She pauses then and turns in askance, "would you like anything to drink?"

Barry shakes his head, instead beckoning her to follow him.

"Uh I don't really know how much I could tell you… you'd have to speak to my manager, she's not here at the moment. I - I have her number though… if you'd like," the girl manages, head bowed and hands wringing nervously as they walk to an empty table.

Barry suppresses a sigh.

"How long have you been working here….?" he asks, settling down across from her.

"Amy," she offers shyly, brown eyes peeking up at him from under thick lashes. "I've been working here for five years. Started my freshman year of college and it worked with my school schedule so I just stayed. Now I'm taking a year off, saving for grad school".

Barry smiles a bit, remembering those early years of college, when he'd been working as an assistant at the CCPD, fetching coffee for the squad and photocopying things, organizing filing cabinets, etc. When Joe had first suggested the idea, Barry had balked at the thought but then he figured, he'd at least be getting a first-hand understanding of the precinct, his future coworkers and bosses.

Once he'd officially become a certified CSI, it was easy to get into the swing of things there.

He wants to ask Amy what she's studying, what sparks her interest, but questions concerning Caitlin weigh heavier on his tongue.

"I'm looking into a missing persons case. A personal note on the victim's computer suggested that she might have come here." Barry pulls out his phone, tapping his way into the photo gallery until Caitlin's picture is staring up at him, smile small and restrained. "Do you recognize this woman?"

Amy cocks her head, brows furrowed.

"I think I do, actually. Haven't seen her in quite some time but she used to come in a couple times a month, always with the same man," she muses, her eyes taking on a far-away look.

"Can you describe the man to me? Did he have long hair?" Barry asks, pulling out the notepad he'd stuffed into his breast pocket.

"No, no. Not long hair. He was a tall bloke, short brown hair. Light blue eyes…. Or maybe, they were gray?" Amy continues, nose scrunching in thought, "I don't remember much honestly, it was years ago. The only reason I even remember them is cause, one of the last times they came here, he got angry. He broke one of our mugs actually, I remember cause I was working that day, you see. I was scared he might even try and hit her, he seemed so angry, but he didn't. He yelled at her and swiped the mug off the table, I shouted at him that he had to get out and pay for that or I'd be calling the police. He left and afterwards, when I went to clean up the mess, she was still sitting there, shaking like a leaf. Poor thing. Now you say, she's missing."

Barry finished scribbling onto his notepad, pausing to digest all that information.

Who was this mystery man? Was Caitlin dating at the time of her disappearance? That would make the man in question a prime suspect; domestic violence at the hands of intimate partners was, sadly, not altogether uncommon. Especially if she'd tried breaking up with him, Barry thought.

He glances up at Amy, who's watching him curiously, curling a strand of hair around her fingers.

"Do you, by any chance, remember what he was yelling about?" Barry asks, moving forward in his seat until he's poised on the very edge of it.

She shrugs apologetically, "I don't. Sorry."

Slumping back into his chair, he looks around the shop once again. He spots the camera against the far wall, facing the seating area, another facing the cash register. He gnaws at his lip in thought, looking down at his notes.

 _Tall, brunet, light eyes. Came in with Caitlin couple times of month. Agitated in last encounters._ _Possible suspect._

The underlined words seem to sear themselves into his brain, bringing with them the fervent hope that perhaps he's finally found a worthwhile clue.

"Two final questions," Barry states abruptly, continuing when Amy nods in acquiescence, "how long does your store retain footage for those cameras? When did you last see them come in?"

She turns, peering at the cameras. "Uh, I think only for about 6 months… As for when I last saw them, the mug incident was the last time I saw the man. I think the woman came in once more after that, maybe around early spring? April, probably."

April. Just a month before she disappeared.

Once he's finished scrawling her remarks into his notepad, he stands, thanking her for her cooperation. She smiles shyly and then shuffles off towards the register, glancing back at him periodically over her shoulder.

Barry stands, baffled, before he shakes his head and sets off, digging his phone out of his pocket. Outside, he waits patiently, listening to the line ring, the sky above him awash with the colors of the sunset.

"Joe. I think I've got a lead."

* * *

Caitlin mixes the compound slowly, watching him watch her from the corner of her eye. He's left her alone before, choosing instead to keep an eye on her through the camera, but today…. It's as if he knows that she's planning something, that she's waiting for him to leave so she can put her plan into action.

Or maybe, he's watching her because somehow, someone out there has gotten her message and they're looking for her now. The thought makes her falter, the hope it brings almost crippling her with relief. She tamps down on it though, three years of captivity bringing her back down to earth.

"That's enough for today."

She nods, stepping back from the table as per routine, her eyes surveying the surface for anything she can use later on. He takes the solution, taking it to the padlocked biocontainment unit he kept at the far end of the lab.

Caitlin moves quickly and quietly, gathering the leftover beakers, flasks and test tubes in her hands and carrying them over to the sink. She lets the bottom most beaker slip from her grip, jumping back when it shatters at her feet.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he thunders, whirling on her, eyes wide and filled with anger.

Stuttering, she deposits the items in her hands back onto the table, going on her knees to gather up the shattered remains. "I -I'm sorry, I just… I wanted to help. It slipped - I'm sorry."

Her voice shakes, eyes welling with unshed tears.

He's at her side in no time, brusquely shoving her aside. "Get back into the cell. NOW".

Nodding meekly, she stands and returns to the glass cage she's called home for the past three years. He bangs his fist against the button and with a hiss, the door closes behind her. She sits on her cot, watching quietly as he cleans the mess she's made, cowering when his glare finds her again and again.

He's still mumbling and cursing her under his breath when he leaves, his footfalls heavy on the stairs leading up to the house.

For a long time, she sits there, breathing shallowly, trying to slow her racing heart. From the corner of her eye, she can see the red glare of the camera's light, recording her every movement.

She stands on wobbly legs and makes her way to the stream, turning her back to the camera. Unfurling her fist, her eyes catch on her prize. Unrefined and rudimentary, but useful nonetheless. The shard has dug into the palm of her hand, drawing blood, and in the harsh light, the bloody glass looks unnerving, out of place in her clinical, clean space.

The feeling in her chest is unnerving too. Bitter and violent and full of icy vengeance. And yet...

She smiles a smile, sharp as glass.

* * *

 **NOTE: I have returneth! Sorry for the long wait, fall semester was truly the semester from hell and I'm studying abroad this semester so I've been exploring and adventuring, haven't really had time to sit down and write. But here it is! Long awaited next chapter. Thank you all for your lovely reviews and comments, means a lot to me! We're getting closer to Barry cracking the case! Any ideas on who the mystery man could be? Stay tuned kiddos! ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Barry yawned, eyes bleary as they refocused on the images playing out across Caitlin's laptop screen. Blindly, he reaches for his coffee mug, grimacing when he realizes the coffee's gone cold.

He'd been steadily making his way through Caitlin's digital archive for the past two days, trying to feel like he was actually making progress on unraveling the new lead, despite the fact that he was currently working out of his own bedroom. As it was, he was swamped at the precinct, the CSI department understaffed, a backlog of tests required for other cases needing his immediate attention. After being sent home several times for staying too late, by both the janitorial staff and the graveyard shift officers, Barry had taken to just bringing his work home with him.

It kept him busy, made him forget how terribly lonely the loft felt most of the time. Kept him from thinking too carefully about how every sound seemed amplified, every footstep echoing. The clutter, at least, made it seem like someone actually lived here.

He'd already been through the phone records, having found nothing out of the ordinary beyond a few private calls every month or so. Those, he thought, might have corresponded to the times she'd met up with the mystery guy Amy had mentioned at the cafe but as Barry had nothing to corroborate that theory with, he let it be.

Slowly, he clicks through the last of the pictures in the file, the dates telling him they'd been taken or at least uploaded to her computer in the weeks prior to her disappearance.

They weren't particularly relevant, wide shots taken at a scenic park, pictures of a colorful window display, a selfie by a churro cart. He pauses suddenly, squinting at the screen, interest piqued by one particular image.

The angle is… wrong. The focus isn't even on Caitlin, blurry and out-of-center but clearly giving the camera a bright smile, her eyes creasing at the corners in a way that already feels familiar to Barry. He zooms into the picture's background, a cold chill traveling up his spine as he realizes there's someone standing just beyond the treeline behind Caitlin, the figure shadowed enough that Barry can't make out their face but the angle leaving no doubt in his mind that they were watching Caitlin.

Feeling horribly awake all of sudden, Barry backtracks to the very first images, the wide shots. He scans them, taking note of the children playing in the background, the ducks that take flight from the lake, the man sitting on the bench reading. He skims through the others, taking note how many of them have strange angles and peculiar central points. His stomach turns as he realizes the common factor between them all.

Caitlin knew she was being followed. She had filed these photos away purposefully and even more, she'd known exactly who was following her, had sought them out to do her own watching from a distance. Because in almost every photo, whether peripherally or front and center, there was always the same man.

The same man who'd accompanied Caitlin to Kava Cafe so often, Barry bets.

Out of curiosity, he glances at the file name, the one under which all these photos were stored.

The name 'Hunter' stares back.

* * *

In a city of approximately 14 million people, there were 22,659 men named Hunter and that was accounting for both first names and last names. The number grew to 26,273 when middle names were factored in and reduced to about 12,545 in total when you factored in all the physical features Barry had to work off of, courtesy of Amy the barista.

Once Barry had conceded to himself that he couldn't get the pictures clear enough to run facial recognition, he'd sent the photos off to a friend in the department he knew could help.

In the meantime, he'd taken to poking around more seriously on Caitlin's computer. If she'd had that file as proof, documentation that someone had been following her, then Barry knew it was very likely that this laptop could also contain details about the serum she'd been working on. Barry had the inkling suspicion that all of these things were connected; the serum, her mysterious off-the-books research, her stalker, the cafe.

Trouble was, Barry had no idea under what name the file could possibly be, if it even existed. And Caitlin had far too many files on her computer. Not that he was going to begrudge her for that; at this point, she'd done more than her fair share in ensuring this case moved forward. Barry wouldn't have gotten this far without her help, he fully believed that.

He'd gone to see Cisco yesterday, to see if he could identify the man from the photos. Cisco couldn't place the guy, said he'd never seen him in his life. There was a look in Cisco's eyes though, as he stared at the photos, as if wishing that he could burn a hole into the man's head if he only stared hard enough.

Barry could understand the sentiment. He doesn't know what he would do if he ever came face to face with the man that killed his mother, the man that tore his family apart, who was probably still out there somewhere while his dad sat in a prison cell.

For a moment, he feels that familiar anger rise to the surface, a dark bitter emotion that floods his mouth and makes him want to punch something. Almost involuntary, his hands curl into fists, teeth gritted as the memories come to him again.

 _His mother bleeding out on the living room floor, gasping for air…_

He's startled by the sound of his phone ringing, loud and shrill from the direction of his bedroom. Standing quickly, he scrambles for his phone, hoping it was about Caitlin's photos.

He tries not to feel too disappointed when he realizes it's Iris.

"Hello?"

"Barry, where are you? I thought we were meeting up at Jitters. I've been sitting here for like 15 minutes, waiting for you."

Barry winces, glancing at the clock on his nightstand, the late afternoon sun slanting across the room and bathing it in gold. He is _so late._

"I'm already on my way there. There's just uh…" he casts about for an excuse, turning in place, trying to locate clean clothes in the mess that is his bedroom. "Foot traffic. You know how it is."

Iris hums, unconvinced.

"I'm going to order for you," she tells him and before he can even reply, she's hung up. Which okay, he sort of deserved that.

He finishes dressing, stuffing his wallet, phone and keys into his pockets. Back in the living room, he stares at the laptop screen for a minute, sending a quiet apology to Caitlin wherever she was. He should be working on her case. With a sigh, he shuts it and leaves.

It takes him approximately 15 minutes to get to Jitters and when he arrives, Iris does not look pleased. She did look comfortable though, sitting back in one of Jitters' leather ottomans, blue sundress bright against her skin, her hair swept up into a ponytail.

"On your way, huh?" she quotes, brows raised incredulously.

Barry shrugs, giving her a sheepish grin.

He grabs at his coffee, smiling when he realizes she's gotten him his favorite.

"You owe me for that, you know. It was your turn to buy coffee," Iris reminds him.

"Yeah yeah," Barry waves her off. He's about to ask her what's new, when his back pocket begins to ring. Fishing his phone out, he turns away from her and takes the call. It's the guy from the photography unit, the one he sent Caitlin's photos over to.

He listens carefully as the guy explains that he was able to sharpen up the pictures, that he ran the man's face through facial recognition software and came up with one Hunter Zolomon. He'd sent all the preliminary info on the guy to Barry's work email.

Barry thanks him profusely, offering to buy him a round the next time the department hosts a night out, mouth quirking when he hears a hearty laugh in response and a promise to hold him to that.

When he turns back, Iris is watching him curiously, big brown eyes soft with unknown emotion.

"Was that for Caitlin's case?" she asks quietly. Barry nods, grinning.

"Finally got a lead?"

"Even better. I've got a suspect."

Iris' eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She lets out a short breathy laugh, hands coming up to cover her mouth. "Barry, that's amazing! Her case has been cold for over three years."

Barry swallows, smile dimming as his eyes flicker down to the surface of the table between them. "Yeah, it has."

"Hey, no."

Iris reaches over suddenly and flicks him, right between the eyes. "You did good. Stop trying to carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders."

"Ow. Was that necessary?!"

"Yes," Iris replies smugly. Barry huffs, indignant as he wraps his fingers around the warm ceramic mug. "Bar, look at me."

When he glances up, there's something like pride in her expression. It's not alone there though, there's something that on any other person Barry would interpret as pity but he knows better.

"Your dad would be really proud of you," she says finally, voice soft and full of emotion.

Barry's throat locks up, the realization settling heavily in the pit of his stomach that with this suspect, he'd now gotten further than he ever had with his dad's case. His mind cycles through a dozen emotions, each briefer and more impactful than the one before.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the idle chatter of Jitters' patrons, Iris picking apart a bagel, Barry lost in thought.

"You're probably dying to work on your new lead so..." Iris finally says, mouth wry. "Go, I won't keep you."

Barry's already halfway out of his seat when she stops him, motioning he sit back down. "Before you go though, promise me you'll join us tomorrow night to celebrate."

Barry pauses, curiosity piqued. He stares at Iris, who stares back, a patient smile on her lips. Rolling his eyes, he breaks the impasse.

"I'll bite. What are we celebrating?"

Iris beams and with a flourish, presents her hand, where an engagement ring rests on her ring finger.

Barry stands so abruptly, he bangs his knee against the table. "You're getting married?!"

Iris grins, laughing when Barry speeds around to the other side of the table to wrap her in a warm hug.

"Congrats! Oh my god. When did you guys decide? Am I the first to know? Does this mean I'm going to be best man?"

It's not a sure thing but Barry is almost certainly vibrating, excitement coursing through his veins.

"Barry, please, you're gonna ruin my hair," Iris laughs, shoving him gently away from her. "We've talked about it and you know, Eddie and I have been together for 3 years now. We've been living together for almost half of that and it just feels like the right time to take that next step. He's getting a promotion soon and I'm hoping to launch the Central City Citizen, we thought why not add another new beginning to the list?"

"Wow," Barry breathes, leaning back against the table. Marriage seemed like such a foreign concept to him, he hadn't been in a relationship since Patty and him broke up before she left to finish her studies at Midway City University. That was, what, over a year ago?

If he really thought about it, she was probably the only serious relationship he'd ever had, his time with Linda over before it had even really began.

"Wait, does Joe know?"

"Yes. Eddie insisted on asking him for my hand in marriage, I swear he's so old-fashioned," Iris comments with a shake of her head, clearly amused. Barry marvels at the blatant affection in her tone, on her face, and part of him wonders if he'll ever find that.

"I'm really happy for you, Iris. Eddie is a lucky man."

"Thanks, Bar…" she pauses, hesitating and then as if having read his mind, continues, "I hope one day you'll find someone who makes you just as happy."

Barry's reply is soft in tone, a quiet murmur, a secret wish.

"I hope so too."

* * *

Amy purses her lips, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. She's dyed the tips blue.

"I can't say for certain but it definitely does look like the same bloke," she mutters, glancing between Barry and the photo Barry's placed before her on the table.

Hunter Zolomon had what most people would call a chiseled visage. With a strong jawline, a straight nose and piercing light eyes, Barry could see why women would find him attractive. Barry, though, only felt utter contempt for the man. Even if it turned out that Hunter wasn't personally involved in Caitlin's disappearance, that he was just a random stalker, which didn't seem to be a very likely scenario, Barry still found his actions odious and inexcusable.

From his record though, he seemed a model citizen, his record squeaky clean, not even a parking ticket to his name. Perhaps too clean. There was one part of his record that had been sealed, on account of Hunter having been a minor at the time. As Barry was still working off circumstantial speculation, he didn't have enough probable cause to take to a judge to get the records unsealed.

It didn't matter though, he had more than enough to work off of right now.

Amy clears her throat, ducking into Barry's field of vision. He turns his attention to her.

"This is probably right awful timing but I was wondering if maybe you'd like to get a drink sometime, yeah?"

As she spoke, she twirled her hair nervously, eyes on the table. Peeking at Barry's dumbfounded expression from under her lashes, she hurries on, rambling.

"You're probably too busy and have a girlfriend proper but I thought I'd ask anyways, yeah, just on the off-chance that wasn't the case."

Barry feels his cheeks flush, hand automatically coming up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. She was hitting on him, asking him out. It's flattering really and there's an instinctive urge to say yes rising up within him because it really has been too long and Amy is cute but with a glance at Caitlin's file before him, he tamps down on the urge, instead clearing his throat and preparing himself to let Amy down gently.

She sees the answer only too plainly on his face, already nodding and waving off his reply with murmured reassurances.

"I'm sorry but this case, it- it needs all my attention, I'm so close to finding her. I can't…" Barry trails off, heart aching as he finishes the thought in his head. _I can't let Caitlin down._

"Don't worry about it. It was inappropriate anyways," Amy shrugs, shoulders hunching in on herself. Barry feels a brief twinge of guilt but he reminds himself that he has a very valid reason for turning her down. Besides, he didn't really know anything about her. Chances were things wouldn't last anyways.

"Thank you again for all your help," Barry says, standing after a few seconds of awkward silence have passed. "You really made a difference in the case."

Amy smiles a lopsided ghost of a smile, fingers coming up to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Hope you find her."

With quick hands, Barry gathers up his papers, Hunter's smug face staring up at him from atop the stack.

 _I'm coming for you._

* * *

Captain Singh stared at Barry over the top of the file.

"You've done good, Allen. I may just have to put you on cases more often," he joked drily, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards.

"Cause that's a great idea," Joe muttered sarcastically under his breath, low enough that Singh couldn't hear but Barry and Eddie both could. Barry glanced at him, feeling slightly indignant.

"What was that, Joe?"

"Nothing, Captain."

Captain Singh hummed unconvincingly, glancing between them. Clearing his throat, he closed the file and set it atop the others on his desk. Barry's hands twitched, the urge to pull the file back towards him so great.

"I'll pass this along and keep you updated on the major stuff," Singh continued, folding his hands underneath his chin, brown eyes steady on Barry.

"You're taking me off the case?" Barry asks, fighting hard to keep his voice even and tempered. His body tenses, like a coil ready to spring, as Singh sighs and stands.

"Allen, I know everything that goes on in this precinct. You think I wouldn't notice one of my best CSI falling behind in their lab work despite working late everyday?" Singh shakes his head, turning his back to them as he looks out the window. Folding his hands behind his back, he continues.

"I thought something like this might happen. From the moment you said you knew that girl, I thought better of it."

"Then why assign me in the first place?" Barry asks, tone oozing bitterness.

"Barry…" Joe warns.

"I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, hoped you wouldn't attached. Plus, I like you, Allen. I wouldn't have hired if I didn't."

Barry doesn't quite know how to respond to that at first but after a moment of deliberation, he realizes it isn't important. He needs Singh to let him finish this case, to see this through.

"Captain Singh, please. Once this case is closed, I'll take a break, a leave of absence, anything. But please, let me see this case through," Barry pleads, voice threatening to break but holding steady.

Singh turns halfway, eyes meeting Barry's. There's a recognition there, an understanding, of why Barry has to do this, why he feels so strongly about this case. But there's hesitation there too, reminding him, warning him of why they aren't supposed to work conflict of interest cases.

Barry reminds him of something else, something he'd told Singh long ago, the very thing that had convinced Singh to hire him over more qualified candidates.

"I once told you that it wasn't about going after the criminals for me, it was about helping the victims. Give me the chance to do that, to help Caitlin," Barry pauses and then with unshakeable resolution, finishes, "Even if I never get to do it again."

Singh must understand what Barry is saying, what he's proposing because his eyes widen slightly as he glances at the file.

" _This_ means that much to you?" he asks, as if he already knows the answer.

"It does," Barry replies.

Singh nods, processing. From the corner of Barry's eye, he can see Eddie and Joe exchanging glances.

"I want you to report to me at the end of each day and you already know, Allen, not even a toe out of line."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain," Barry stands, relief coursing through his body when Singh hands him the file with a pointed look.

They file out of the office silently. The minute they're out of earshot, the barrage of questions begins.

"Care to tell me what that whole thing was about?" Joe asks.

"Barry, are you sure that was the best thing to do?" Eddie questions, brows furrowed.

"If this is what it takes to see this case close, yes," Barry replies, answering Eddie's question first. Brown eyes bore into blue ones.

"Barry, what…" Joe trails off, a question in his eyes.

"He basically told Singh if he didn't get to see this case through, he was liable to quit," Eddie interjects, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at Barry, perplexed.

Barry meets Joe's gaze and he knows that Joe wants to argue, can see the argument already play out before him. Hell, if he was in Joe's place, he would argue too because he knows what it looks like from the outside. That he's being impulsive and irrational, that he's emotionally compromised. Perhaps all of that is true, perhaps none of it is.

But there was just something about this case, about Caitlin that drew him in.

"You know that handing the case over to someone else is just gonna set us back. We don't have time for that, Caitlin doesn't have that kind of time," Barry explains.

"If this is my last case with CCPD, so be it but I'm going to find her."

After a minute of close scrutiny, Joe sighs.

"What's the plan then?"

Barry grimaces. "I think it's time we pay a visit to Hunter Zolomon."

* * *

 **NOTE: For those of you who guessed Hunter, DING DING DING! You were correct.**

 **Barry's willing to put it all on the line to help Caitlin, even if that means quitting CCPD. Sound familiar? And hurray for Westhawne wedding!**

 **This chapter was really just setting everything up for what's to come. Tune in next time for a climatic sixth chapter ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: The following chapter depicts violence and abuse. Proceed with caution.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Hunter Zolomon's home is precisely the kind of creepy, isolated place Barry had expected.

Tucked away from civilization, at the end of a winding road whose entrance seemed to be purposely hidden from the world by dense foliage, the house seemed out of place. Short steps led up to an empty front porch, lacking in its presence the usual things that decorated them, that made a place seem homely and welcoming.

The rest of the building had a modern yet rustic feeling to it, dark wooden paneling making up most of the exterior, save for the wide windows. It didn't seem like a place that belonged out here, amongst the wild untamed shrubbery and overgrown trees; it seemed clinical, austere, unwelcoming.

Barry sucked in a breath, hands coming up to clutch at the steering wheel, trying to dispel the ball of nerves that had settled at the pit of his stomach. _Into the lion's den._

With steely determination, he got out of the car and walked the steps up to the front door. His body seemed almost to rebel against him, his movements sluggish as he raised his hand to knock. Part of him hoped against all odds that Caitlin was here. Another part of him wished she weren't in this situation at all.

Glancing back at the car, he went over the story in head. Behind him the door opened and he whirled, finding himself face to face with Hunter Zolomon.

Seeing him in photo, even ones professionally sharpened and focused in on like the ones from the lab, didn't compare to seeing him in person. For one, he was tall. It was a fact Barry had known long before he'd ever seen Hunter in person but not one he'd necessarily visualized.

Hunter stared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he gave Barry a once-over and then peeked his head out the door to stare in either direction of the house.

"Who are you?" he asked gruffly, jaw clenching as he shifted to block the door with his stance, arms crossing over his chest.

Barry tried not to stare at the bulges of muscle in his arm. Laughing nervously, he scratched at the back of his head.

"Hey, man. I'm... Sam. I was just having some car trouble and I spotted your house, thought maybe you could help me out?" Barry rambled, gesturing wildly to his car.

Hunter didn't even glance, eyes fixed on Barry. An imperceptible shiver made its way up Barry's back as he recalled the photos, the way Hunter's eyes were always fixed on Caitlin wherever she went. Despite their inherent lightness, there was something about Hunter's eyes that seemed to suck all the warmth and light in, leaving only bleak coldness. Even now the way they stared at him, almost as if seeing through him, unnerved him.

"Call a tow truck then," Hunter responded, tone flat and uninterested.

Barry shakes his head, hoping he wouldn't get punched for what he was about to attempt next.

"My phone died. Seriously man, I'll just be in and out of your hair, I swear. Just need to call someone," Barry said, pushing past Hunter into the house. "Do you have any water, by the way, I'm s-"

Barry stopped, glancing back, Hunter's hand having clamped down brusquely over his wrist. Here, in the shaded entryway, Hunter seemed even more menacing, the light casting shadows on his face, sharpening the natural contours of his bone structure.

A lick of anger flickered to life in Barry's stomach, the pretense of playing stupid falling away just for a second as he stared into the eyes of a man that he could only feel utter contempt for. Barry wrenched his hand from Hunter's grip, massaging his wrist.

"Hey man. No need to get grabby," he snapped, genuinely annoyed. "I'm just trying to get home."

Hunter's face relaxed then, a glint of interest sparking in his eyes for the briefest of moments. With a sharp turn, he shut the door behind them and motioned for Barry to enter into the living room. He grabbed the home phone lying on the coffee table and handed it to Barry, eyes sharp as Barry glanced around the living room.

"This is a nice place you've got," Barry complimented.

It _was_ a nice place, if a bit cold and impersonal. It seemed like something out of a magazine, Barry thought, finding no signs that an actual person lived here.

"I'll get you your water," Hunter murmured quietly and then stepped out of the room just as quietly, his footsteps silent on the floorboards.

Quickly, Barry dialed the number for the tow truck company he'd committed to memory before he'd come here, a little family owned place not too far from here. Calling it private so as to ensure they wouldn't call back, he let it ring once, twice before he ended the call. Phone in hand, he crept from the living room as quietly as he could, darting into the hallway on the other side of the living room from the kitchen.

He found the bathroom, door ajar, and another door, which opened up into what seemed to be the master bedroom. Finding nothing amiss, besides the eerie absence of any personal belongings, Barry shut the door quietly and hurried back into the living room.

He pretended to end the call just as Hunter re-entered the living room, glass of cold water in hand. Barry smiled tightly, thanking him.

Hunter nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a ghost of a smirk. The expression seemed mocking, smug almost.

Barry sipped at his water, eyes darting around the room, trying to mentally catalogue as much of it as he could. He's about to open his mouth, explain to Hunter that the tow truck people suggested he try jump-starting the car when he catches sight of something over Hunter's shoulder.

Down the same hallway Hunter had disappeared down to go to the kitchen, there was a door. Barry could only see a sliver of it, his line of sight blocked by Hunter and in no way, aided by the weird angle he was looking at it from. The door, made of solid steel, seemed almost innocuous, sitting there in plain sight. Barry tilted his head surreptitiously, trying to get a better angle on it, see if it had security measures.

As he moved, he tried to distract Hunter with his speech, his words coming out haltingly and distracted.

"The uh… the people from the tow truck company…" Barry fleetingly caught sight of a keypad, which he quickly lost sight of as Hunter shifted, "they said I should um- I should jump-start the car, yeah?"

A steel door. With a keypad. That had to be enough, when combined with the photos, for a judge to sign off on a search warrant for probable cause. There were no coincidences in this line of work.

Barry straightened, smiling brightly.

"I have some jumper cables in my car so I guess I should go fish those out! Thanks for the help, man. Really appreciate it. I'll get out of your hair now."

Placing the water on the table, he slipped past Hunter, opening the front door.

Feeling eyes on him, he fished the spark plugs from his car and went through the motions of hooking them up under the hood. Internally, his mind was racing.

Only someone with something to hide would have a door of reinforced steel with keypad technology in their home. Perhaps it was a lab, that would once in for all explain the serum that Caitlin had been working on. Or perhaps, Caitlin herself was down there.

Leaning in to start the car, he peeked back up at the house through the windshield, not surprised to find that he could see Hunter's face watching from beyond the glass.

He was definitely hiding something and Barry was going to find out what.

* * *

Caitlin stared down at the tools before her, eyebrows knitted.

"You want me to lift the DNA from this?" she asked, shifting her gaze from the glass on the counter to Hunter, who stood beside her impassively.

"That's what I said," he replied evenly, eyes boring into her.

Caitlin bit her lip. She knew it wasn't wise to ask but she was curious. In her three years of captivity, he'd never asked her to do anything like this. It wasn't like she was a CSI.

Hesitantly, she spoke.

"Why?"

"Do it," he compelled, stepping closer to emphasize the unspoken threat at the end of his order.

Flinching back, she nodded, hands reaching out for the gloves he'd provided. Grabbing a hold of the adhesive powder, she grabbed the brush, holding the glass up to the light.

Some part of her wanted to break the glass, destroy his search in its track. But she was curious. He was potentially handing her information that she could use to escape. Or an opportunity to communicate with the outside world, she thought, the computer at the corner of her eye seeming to beckon her.

Absentmindedly, she grabbed the tape, covering the fingerprints she'd brushed over with powder.

Briefly, her mind offered a horrifying thought. What if he was using this to find someone new, someone else he would kidnap, someone else whose life he would destroy?

Staring at the tape in her hand, she blinked as her eyes welled with tears.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't.

Hunter, seeming to sense her sudden change of heart, grabbed the tape from her hand, shoving her aside unkindly.

As he ran the analysis, Caitlin stood to the side, arms hugged around her middle, a pit of despair trying to swallow her whole from the inside. She could feel blood on her lip, from where she'd bit too harshly, trying to choke back tears.

What would he do to her, when he no longer needed her?

A long series of beeps pulls her from her thoughts. The computer has finished analyzing the prints. Glancing over Hunter's shoulder, she sees as he runs the results against a database, one he definitely ought not to have access to. It makes her wonder just who he has contacts with.

The thought is fleeting however, as an image crystallizes on screen. The identity of whoever those prints belonged. She gasps when the image finally renders.

Hunter turns, face like thunder as he towers over her.

"What did you do?!" he snarls, throwing out a hand to gesture at the screen.

"I don't - I... " Caitlin stutters, mind racing.

Barry was here? At the house? Why?

Too quickly for her to react, Hunter was in her space, a fistful of her hair in hand. She cried out in pain, hands coming up to claw at his arm.

"I know you did something. Because I don't think it's a coincidence that your little friend there is with CCPD. So who is he? How do you know him?"

Her head ached as she registered that information.

CCPD. Barry was with CCPD. Could it be that someone had actually gotten her letter? That somehow her case had made its way into the hands of someone who actually knew her, who could help?

"ANSWER ME!" Hunter yelled, pulling roughly on her hair.

"I went- I went to school with him," she cried, clawing desperately at his arm. Her scalp felt like it was on fire and _it_ _hurt._

Pulling her by the hair, he led her back to the glass encasement. Brusquely, he shoved her in, the door sliding shut with a hiss. His face seemed shadowed by a darkness she'd never seen before and his next words sent a chill down her spine.

"What happens next is on you."

He left the basement, Caitlin's yells falling on deaf ears.

* * *

Barry gets the call in the middle of the night.

He jolts awake at the sound of his phone ringing, a crick in his neck from having fallen asleep on the couch. He'd spent most of the afternoon and evening in Captain Singh's office, trying to speed-rush a search warrant and putting together a breach team for the door in Hunter's home, in case he wasn't feeling very cooperative.

All in all, it had been a long day and Barry was feeling all the stress and exhaustion now.

Groggily, he answers his phone, his greeting a mumbled, sleep-slurred mess.

"We need you down here immediately. CCPD is under attack."

The line clicked off and Barry sat dumbfounded for a brief moment, processing that. As soon as the words registered, he was up and rushing out the door, keys and phone in hand, still wearing the clothes from yesterday.

The precinct was a mess when he arrived, cops rushing to and fro, phones ringing off the hook, Captain Singh barking orders from the head of the room.

Barry spotted Joe and Eddie off to the side, conversing. He headed for them first.

"Joe. Eddie. What's going on? You said we were under attack."

"Someone lured 15 of our officers into a trap. We don't know who we're dealing with, what kind of injuries they've suffered, we've got eyes in the skies canvassing the area and Captain Singh is putting together squads to get boots on the ground but… things are bad, Barry. Things are bad."

Joe rubbed his hand over face, looking haggard and stressed. Eddie didn't look any better, skin sallow and pale, dark bags bruising the skin underneath his eyes.

"Fifteen? What - how?" Barry asks, struggling to make sense of his thoughts.

"Allen!" Captain Singh calls.

Barry turns, surprised when he realizes the captain is beckoning him over. Hurrying over, Barry's heart sinks as he takes in the tear-streaked, determined faces of the officers around him. Who had they lost tonight?

"Captain," he greets, coming to a stop before the man, who didn't look any less tired than Eddie or Joe.

"Follow me."

Still confused, Barry obeys, following the captain into his office. The moment the door is shut, Singh begins to speak.

"I got his records unsealed. Hunter's…" Singh says quietly, the silence in the room as he pauses unnerving Barry. "Barry, I have an unsettling suspicion that this attack wasn't random."

Barry takes the file hesitantly, eyebrows knitted as he stares at the Captain.

Flipping through it, his stomach revolts. Pictures of grisly crime scenes stare back at him, words jumping out. Hunter was only eleven when he killed for the first time. His own father, responsible for killing Hunter's mother only shortly before. Throughout his adolescence, he'd developed a penchant for harming small animals, neighborhood pets and strays that meandered too close to the orphanage he'd been put in.

At 15, he struck again, killing two classmates who'd dared to tease him about the second-hand rate clothes supplied to him by the orphanage, strangling them with their own shoelaces. He'd been tried as a child then, his lawyers pleading an insanity case, and institutionalized for a year afterwards.

At 17, he'd been the prime suspect in an investigation concerning the disappearance of a local girl from his former high school. Insufficient evidence and a trail gone cold, the case remained open long after Hunter had moved away from his hometown.

For a good decade, he'd been silent, virtually no traces of him on the grid. Then, finally, about 5 years ago, he'd resurfaced in Central City. There didn't seem to be any more indications of criminal wrongdoing but these kinds of people, textbook psychopaths, they didn't change. Once they started down the path of bloodlust, there wasn't much that would dissuade them from it.

He glanced up at Captain Singh, a dawning sense of horror growing as he realized what the captain was implying. Singh stared back, eyes firm and steady.

"Can you think of any reason why he would possibly attack CCPD?"

Barry's mind whirred, working furiously as it provided him all the clues he'd been too stupid to see. Hunter's smug face. The glass of water, his fingerprints perfectly preserved on its surface. The way in which he'd shifted to block Barry's view of the door. The emptiness of the house, its lack of personality, the sense of easy abandonment one got. He never put down roots, roots made it harder to leave, especially if one was in a hurry.

Barry's eyes rounded.

"It's a distraction…"

Hunter was skipping town.

* * *

Caitlin's voice was hoarse. She'd been screaming, pounding at the glass for what seemed like ages.

Now she could only sit and stare at the camera in the corner, the steady red light mocking her with its constant glare.

 _What happens next is on you._

Hunter's words seemed to loop around in her brain, conjuring fresh new horrors with every loop. Caitlin didn't want to think of what Hunter was capable. It was true that he'd never really hurt her (at least not until recently), always having had a soft spot for Caitlin, a lingering affection from a time when there had been a possibility of a relationship between them. But she wasn't blind to the signs of psychopathy he showed.

She'd worked with Hunter for months before he'd kidnapped her; it was why she'd begun to take precautions in the end, after she'd tried to break off their partnership. She'd started fearing the worst.

She wondered now if Barry had found any of her files, if indeed he was the one that had been assigned her case…

Barry Allen. There was a name she hadn't thought of in a very long time. She remembered him though, only too well. She'd spent the better part of a semester or two crushing on him after all.

Now he was assigned to her case. Funny how the world worked, she thought derisively, hands curling into fists. The prick of glass in her palm was a welcome distraction from the maelstrom of thoughts in her head.

The door to the lab opened and Caitlin stood immediately, alert and anxious as she watched Hunter come down the steps. Taking in his appearance, she couldn't see any signs of struggle, of violence. He seemed as nonplussed as ever, if not perhaps a bit more dour than usual. Catching sight of a metal suitcase in his hand, Caitlin spoke, struggling to keep her voice even as she watched him place the suitcase on the table.

"Hunter… what did you do?"

His silence didn't do much to assuage her fears.

She could tell when he opened the suitcase, silver edges peeking out on either side of his torso but she couldn't see what was in it. He was blocking her view.

"Hunter…" she tried again.

"If the police are onto you, hurting people won't help your case. They'll find a way to stop you," she reasoned.

"Because they've done a bang-up job these past three years," Hunter mocked, turning his head slightly so she could see the smugness on his face. "CCPD is a little distracted at the moment so I wouldn't count on seeing Barry any time soon."

Caitlin shifted, uneasy. "Is that your plan then? Distract them while you get away?"

Hunter turned then, a strange expression on his face. "You mean while we get away."

Caitlin scoffed, in disbelief. "You don't honestly think that I would willingly go with you… I am never going to be with you."

She watches his face for a reaction that never comes. When he steps closer to the glass, she steps back instinctively, hand flexing around the glass in her right palm. He glances briefly at her hand, mouth twitching.

"You think we're different, that you're not like me. But you forget, I'm always watching…" he pointed to the camera in the corner. "I've seen the darkness inside you, Caitlin. Tell me, what were you going to do with that glass in your hand?"

His voice was a smooth baritone without inflection. Caitlin went very, very still, stomach dropping as her thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"How - how…" she tried, shaking her head.

Hunter laughed a humorless laugh. "You didn't really think I wouldn't know, did you?"

"Then why let me think I'd gotten away with it?" she retorted, angry and feeling stupid.

"To give you hope, of course. So I could rip it away," he replied, matter-of-factly. Caitlin stared, horrified.

He turned back to the suitcase. "In any case, you'll be coming along. Willingly or not."

Pivoting, he came towards her, syringe in hand. Caitlin scrambled back, away from the door. It opened with a hiss, Hunter stepping through, determination clear on his face.

For a moment, they stood in a stand-off, Hunter filling in the doorway, Caitlin with her back up against the glass.

He lunged. Caitlin ducked, right hand swinging out to swipe at his torso, glass shard in hand. He cursed loudly. When she turned, he was holding a hand to his side, glaring at her. Her eyes darted to the open doorway and just as quickly as he'd lunged, she dove for the entrance.

A hand curled around her bicep, tugging her backward roughly. She kicked at his knee blindly, her foot finding air instead. Crowding her back into the corner, he pinned her, both with his body and the intensity of his gaze.

Chest heaving, Caitlin's mind whirred. He was taller, stronger. But he was also a man. With a ferociousness that at any other time would have scared her, Caitlin drove her knee up.

Hunter _howled_ , dropping the syringe as he fell to his knees. Caitlin scooped it up quickly and ran. Darting up the stairs, she pulled on the door with all her might, smacking its surface in a burst of frustration when it didn't budge. Glancing back, she could still see Hunter on his knees.

Jogging down the stairs, she examined the lab, the adrenaline making her head pound and the blood in her veins sing. Her eyes locked onto the biocontainment unit at the end of the far end of the lab. _Leverage._

She'd just reached the unit when her legs were swept out from under her and she hit her head on the sharp metallic edge. Pain blossomed across her forehead, warm blood dripping down her face and smearing onto the floor below her.

She twisted under him, feeling slightly feral as he leaned in to restrain her. Caitlin threw a punch upward, her hand making contact with his nose, the sickening crunch audible. Hunter growled, jaw clenched tight, teeth gritted.

Pinning both her hands, Hunter wrestled both syringe and shard from her grasp, tossing the shard far from them.

A loud bang made them both freeze, Hunter still leaning over Caitlin. The silence that followed, interspersed only by the harsh draws of breath, seemed to ring in Caitlin's ears. Again, the bang came, this time clearly coming from the direction of the door upstairs. Muffled voices followed.

Caitlin grinned victoriously as Hunter turned to look at her, eyes wide. "Guess they weren't too busy."

Before he could react, she leaned up and headbutted him. Hard.

Stars burst behind her eyelids, the pain in her head growing worse. Still, every moment of disorientation she could cause in him was a moment she bought herself, a moment she bought the officers busting down the door.

Hunter wasn't so easily dislodged however.

Slowly, with a hand in her hair dragging her up, he brought her to her feet. Her vision blurred for a moment, black spots fading in and out, then cleared. He brought her back to his front, curling an arm around her to keep her upright as she swayed. She could feel the outline of the syringe in his other hand, brushing her side.

"You're a monster," she whispered.

"And you're complicit," he murmured in her ear softly, just as the door was breached.

Officers swarmed into the lab, dressed in heavy gear, their guns all pointed at Hunter. They might as well not have existed. Caitlin's eyes were drawn to the figure coming down the stairs. Barry. Alive and well. Safe. Here, in the nick of time.

Barry's eyes were wide as he took in the scene, the glass prison, the blood streak behind them, Hunter's side wound and bleeding nose, Caitlin's bloody forehead. When his eyes fixed on them, Caitlin could have sworn his eyes softened for just a moment as he glanced at her but Caitlin's vision was also blurry, her pulse pulsating rapidly, so her observations didn't count for much.

She definitely saw the dark glare he shot Hunter however, green eyes dark with contempt.

"Did you like the little present I left your friends at precinct, Allen?" Hunter crowed, voice cracking.

"You're going to rot in jail for the rest of your life, Hunter. I'm gonna make sure of that," Barry promised. "Now let her go."

Caitlin skimmed her fingers lightly over the syringe. It dangled loosely from Hunter's hand, no longer useful to him now that they were surrounded.

"Tell me, how many did I get? 10? 12?"

In a swift movement, Caitlin pulled the syringe from Hunter's lax grip and whirled, jabbing the needle into his upper arm and emptying the drug into his system.

She watched as he staggered back, eyes blinking rapidly, hands reaching out to her as the drug worked its way through. He sank to his knees, staring up at Caitlin, betrayal in his eyes. Finally, his eyelids fluttered shut and the rest of his body slumped onto the floor, where he stayed silent and still.

Caitlin stared, not quite believing it was truly over.

Three years of being held prisoner, biding her time, living in a glass cage with no privacy. Longing for the prickling warmth of sun on her skin, the soft brush of wind. Longing for air that wasn't constantly being recycled and filtered. It was over… just like that.

"Caitlin." Barry called softly.

She turned, feeling as if her body was not her own, her actions not her own. On either side of her, officers moved in to restrain Hunter and take him away.

Barry's green eyes were a welcome sight, gentle and inviting as they observed her.

As she moved to take a step forward, her body seemed to drain from all its earlier adrenaline, leaving her feeling light and off-balance.

She stumbled, Barry immediately moving in to catch her. His arms were warm around her, careful not to further add to her injuries, tender in a way that made tears prick at her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been touched like this, softly and with care.

Feeling suddenly overcome with emotion, she glanced up at Barry's face, finding only compassion and understanding. Quickly, wanting to hide her face as much as she wanted the physical contact, she surged up and wrapped her arms around Barry's neck, hugging herself to him, clinging to him as if he were her anchor.

Perhaps he was, in this moment. She felt adrift, unmoored, lost.

She didn't think she knew how to live a life outside of glass walls anymore.

* * *

Despite the chaos at the CCPD, Captain Singh was able to cobble together a breach team fairly quickly. Neither of them mentioned how most of the original breach team was missing, having been a part of the units that had headed out to the scene, unbeknownst to them that they were headed into a trap.

Within the half hour, they were on route to Hunter's place, Joe and Eddie sitting on either side of Barry.

Barry had been outfitted in minimal gear and given a gun, his inclusion a foregone conclusion (despite the fact that he wasn't trained for breaching). Still, he'd been relegated to the back of the breach team, advised only to come in once the room had been secured.

They arrived at Hunter's house in what seemed to be a record time, a hush falling within the car as they rolled up to the house. The sirens had long been turned off and now without even the crunch of tire tracks on the forest floor, the forest seemed eerily silent in the dusky light of pre-dawn. Briefly, Barry wondered if they were walking into another trap. Maybe Hunter was already long gone…

When they entered, however, the front door splintered apart beneath their feet from the sheer excessive force of the battering ram, it seemed as though Hunter was still in the midst of preparing to leave. In the living room, there were bags filled with clothes. Ballistics immediately started on the steel door, setting up muzzle contacts for the lock and central hinge. If the door still wouldn't budge, they'd target the remaining two hinges but Joe had assured Barry that the first two would allow them to breach just fine.

One of the officers reported that there was a car around back, probably what Hunter intended to use to get away.

By the time, they were able to breach, their ballistics expert making quick work of the muzzle contacts with two shots, dawn had arrived. The officers swarmed down below into the basement, which at a quick glance, Barry confirmed doubled as a lab.

There was a glass structure in the middle of the room, of which Barry didn't even want to think of the implications there; he could see a cot inside and a stream that made its through the entirety of the room before it disappeared into a crevice at the very back. He was guessing that was the stream which had carried Caitlin's note out into the world.

His heart ached at the sight.

At the far end of the lab, Hunter stood, arm curled possessively around Caitlin's middle. There was something unhinged in his expression now, the careful facade he'd presented to Barry long gone. Blood darkened his teeth, dripping down from his nose, which looked crooked and on the verge of swelling.

Caitlin didn't look any better, her hair mussed and messy, a long gash on her forehead spilling blood all down the side of her face and onto her clothes. She seemed dazed, pained, tired… Still, there was a fire in her eyes as they found his that made Barry's breath catch.

He could barely focus on Hunter's taunts, his eyes flickering back to Caitlin every so often. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her hand shifting back towards Hunter but he didn't realize what she intended to do until after she'd turned, having jabbed a syringe into Hunter's arm.

From the corner of his eye, Barry saw Joe lower his gun, eyes wide.

Hunter staggered back, looking shocked and betrayed, two expressions that didn't seem natural on his face. As he went down, his eyes locked on Caitlin, Barry got the distinct feeling that he was missing something, that there was more to their dynamic than he'd been led to believe.

The thought made him uncomfortable for reasons he didn't really wish to explore.

As the officers moved in to take Hunter away, others beginning to canvas the room for evidence to be logged away, Barry's eyes remained fixed on Caitlin.

He called to her, pulling her from her reverie.

When she turned, there was a haunted look in her eyes. Barry swallowed, finding it difficult with the lump in his throat. He'd spent so long looking for her, he didn't know what to do now that she was here, standing before him.

She took a step forward and stumbled, the adrenaline seeming to leave her body all at once. Barry caught her in his arms, taking note of how cold her skin felt and the thin fabric of her clothes. Her hair brushed against his chin, limp and greasy, but all those details fell away when she glanced up at him, misty-eyed.

As Barry scrutinized her face, he tried to reconcile three versions of Caitlin in his mind. The Caitlin he'd known in high school, bright and witty and innocent, the Caitlin he'd gotten to know through the case, cautious and sharp and breath-takingly _real_ even if only in pictures and film, and finally, the Caitlin that stood before him, hardened yet fragile, a fighter in her own right.

Barry startled when Caitlin suddenly leaned up to hug him tightly. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her, his hands settling on the small of her back. She shivered, hugging herself tighter against Barry as she sniffed and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. He let her stay there for a while longer, letting her find the comfort she so desperately needed.

Over her shoulder, he could see Eddie and Joe breaking open the bio-containment unit. _The serum,_ his mind suggested. There were still pieces unclear to him.

Pulling back slowly from Caitlin, he suggested quietly that he help her get upstairs. Nodding, she wrapped her arms around herself and allowed him to steer her up the stairs, glancing back down at the basement only once. They got as far as the front door and suddenly, she paused.

Recognizing what this moment meant to her, he stood aside, still ready to catch her at any given moment but giving her space to process nonetheless.

Shaking like a leaf in the wind, she stepped slowly over the threshold, gasping when the early morning breeze hit her. She stood there for a moment, head tipped back reveling in the fresh air, and then she crumpled onto the floor, sobbing.

Barry's heart cleaved in two as he watched her cry. Three years. She hadn't seen the outside world in three years...

He'd always thought the worst sound he would ever hear from her was the piercing scream on the recording call but he was wrong.

Caitlin's sobs were heart-wrenching wails that tore at the soul, interspersed only by the long draws of fresh air into lungs that had long forgotten what that felt like.

* * *

 **Note: So Caitlin's finally free... Hunter's headed to jail, Barry cracked the case but there's still a lot of questions left unanswered. Until next time folks! Leave a comment and let me know what you thought of the chapter!**

 **Also shout-out to the lovely people over at the Snowbarry Discord server, especially Purpleyin, for being awesome and helping me iron out some wrinkles in the story!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Hunter's icy glare seemed to pierce straight through the one way mirror in the interrogation room, eyes unknowingly fixed upon Barry, who felt uneasy despite knowing that Hunter couldn't actually see him. It'd been three days since they'd brought him and Caitlin in and still, he'd refused to talk.

Caitlin had been released to the paramedics upon arrival at the precinct and promptly whisked off to the hospital for tests. Captain Singh had sent along two officers to stand guard outside her room until she was released, they were to escort her back to the precinct then so she could give her statement.

Still reeling from Hunter's attack, there were many officers in the precinct that were advocating for multiple life sentences. After all, Hunter hadn't only killed 14 officers, only one of the 15 sent out to the scene of his trap having survived, he'd also killed the family who ran the tow truck service Barry had dialed when he'd visited Hunter.

They hadn't discovered that particular crime until one of the neighbors had called the precinct in hysterics, having found the bodies. Once the connection had been made, Barry, sick with the knowledge that a family was dead because of him, had insisted on being the one to canvas the area. He needed to see what his actions, his impulsiveness, had caused.

He'd held it together fairly well, in the garage where the parents' bodies had been found, until he saw the little girl. Seeing her pale little tear-streaked face, the bloodied cat print pajamas, the blank eyes that stared off into space as she sat, wrapped in a blanket, it was all too much. He'd had to excuse himself, barely making it outside to the bushes to throw up. A child, alone in the world without her parents; it was a painful experience he was only too familiar with. She was alone because of him too. If he'd known this would have happened when he made the call, he never would have made it.

Behind him, the door opened. Barry turned, attempting a smile when he realized it was Joe. Joe had been running himself ragged in the past few days, helping Captain Singh arrange the service for the fallen officers, trying to sort out new partnerships for the remaining officers, always worrying about Barry, trying his best to reassure him that what had happened to the DeSantis' family was solely on Hunter.

Barry didn't quite believe that but he puts on a brave face for Joe's sake nonetheless.

"The hospital is releasing Caitlin. She'll be arriving in about 10 minutes," he said quietly, eyes flickering to the one way glass. Barry nodded in acknowledgement. "I'll meet you in the interrogation room."

Joe shut the door behind him. Barry looked back at Hunter.

He'd cracked the case. He'd found Caitlin. They had Hunter in custody... But it was a pyrrhic victory at best. Hollow and with too great a cost.

Leaving the room, he motioned to the officers stationed outside the interrogation room to escort Hunter back to his cell, knowing they wouldn't be getting anything from him today.

He makes himself a cup of coffee and grabs a water bottle for Caitlin, setting up in interrogation room 2. Finally, he joins Joe and Eddie in the lobby to wait for Caitlin's arrival. Every time the elevator chimed, his body tensed, unsure of what to expect. He hadn't expected her to hug him like she had that night. But she'd been emotional and he was a familiar face… At least, he hoped he was a familiar face to her. They hadn't really spoken in the drive back to the precinct, Caitlin silent and still beside him, not quite present in the moment.

When the elevator door finally slides open to reveal Caitlin and the two escorting officers, something in Barry seems to settle at the recognition in her eyes. She looks better, more alert, her forehead wound healing nicely and taped over with butterfly stitches. Someone, probably Cisco, who Barry had called shortly after they'd arrived back at the precinct, had gotten her some new clothes - or old clothes?

They seemed to fit loose on her frame. Her hair too, had been washed and now curled softly at her shoulders. If it weren't for her eyes, melancholic and weary, he never would have guessed the sort of ordeal she'd gone through.

Joe welcomes her, apologizing that she had to come in so soon after beginning her recovery.

"It's protocol to have witnesses give their statement as soon as possible so we can get as many details as they're able to remember," Eddie adds, giving Caitlin a warm smile. Disconsolate eyes shift to him, seeming to ask how she could ever forget what had happened to her. Eddie grimaced, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. After an awkward moment of silence, he excuses himself quickly, claiming he had paperwork to finish.

Joe takes that as his cue to lead the way towards the interrogation room. When they enter, Caitlin settles in on the lone chair on one side of the table, Barry and Joe taking the other two seats.

"Can I get you anything else? Coffee, maybe?" Joe asks, gesturing to the water bottle Barry had placed on the table only a few minutes ago.

"No, thank you. This is fine," Caitlin murmurs, fingers picking at her the edges of her sweater.

Joe nods, clearing his throat. He opens her file, it's edges worn down from all the times Barry had thumbed through it.

"Detective Thawne and I, we're the officers that were officially signed to your case but unofficially, Barry's been the one doing all the heavy lifting. Captain Singh thought it best to have him on the case, coordinating with your family and friends, considering that you went to school together. I hope it's okay with you, that he's here."

Caitlin's eyes don't look up from the table but she nods all the same. Barry's stomach twists.

"Now, there's a few things we're unclear about and we'll go through those questions later but right now, we just want to hear your side of things. Start at the beginning and walk us through," Joe adds softly, pen poised on the legal pad he had before him.

Barry settles back in his seat, uncertain of what to expect.

* * *

The memories come to Caitlin in a flurry, making her chest unbearably tight with the weight of a thousand emotions. Swallowing, she forces herself to speak.

"Hunter came to me in the beginning," she starts, recalling the day when she'd first walked onto her floor at Mercury Labs and found Hunter waiting outside her office.

Then, she'd found him to be a handsome stranger, a curiosity by virtue of the issue he'd brought to her attention, a welcome distraction from the monotonous blur of days that life had become after Ronnie's death.

"He was sick. A rare kind of degenerative illness, that started at the cells. He wanted me to find a cure."

He'd been willing to pay, she remembered. At first, she'd taken him up on the offer, needing the funds to work on the serum. But as they'd grown closer over the following months, while she worked on it, she found the money left a bitter taste in her mouth. Even the feelings of closeness she'd begun to feel for him, felt wrong.

After all, Ronnie hadn't been dead more than five months when Hunter first came to her.

Bile rises in her throat as she recalls that day in September, when he'd first kissed her.

It was shortly after she'd made the first successful batch of the serum (mostly a mixture of benzene methanol, carbon disulfide, dioxygen difluoride). They'd been celebrating in her office, a quiet affair with a single bottle of champagne, long after everyone else had gone home. Caitlin had been laughing about something, she couldn't remember what anymore, but she remembered the warmth in her chest, as bubbly as the champagne in her hand. She'd glanced up at him in that moment, still grinning.

The expression on his face…she remembered how it knocked the air from her lungs, how it reminded her of how Ronnie used to look at her. Like he was so very lucky to even be in her presence. Heart in her throat at the thought of Ronnie, she'd frozen when he leaned in, chapped lips pressing against hers.

Hand on her hip, he'd pressed forward, crowding her against the edge of her desk, the kiss growing more urgent when she'd hesitantly pressed back, wanting nothing more than to drown the guilt that had begun to build within her. For a moment, she did.

She'd pulled back just as quickly, head swimming and turned away in shame. Goosebumps rise alongside her arm now as she recalls Hunter's huffed breaths against her cheek, how he claimed that he cared about her.

"Caitlin…" Another voice calls softly, bringing her back to the present.

She looks up, glancing first at Detective West's concerned expression and then Barry's anxious face. The sight of his green eyes, wide and earnest, soothes a not-insignificant anxiety in her. She was safe. Hunter couldn't get to her anymore.

With a deep breath, she steels herself and continues.

"Hunter grew to… care for me in the months that we worked together on the cure. He told me that for the first time in his life, he didn't feel alone... I couldn't handle that…"

Those kinds of comments had been small and far in between in the beginning, breathed in quiet moments, as thanks, as acknowledgement and later on, as a lament. But he became possessive as time wore on, angry when she held him at arm's length, caught between grief and unwelcome feelings.

Things had changed though, when she discovered that the serum, despite prolonging his life by slowly replacing the dead cells in his body, was also killing him. Caitlin felt compelled to be there for him then. After all, he'd been handed a death sentence once again.

Hunter was only too happy to revel in her presence, her comfort. And she was stupid enough to fall into complacency. It was a short-lived complacency however, Caitlin coming to her senses not long after.

"I broke off our partnership, knowing he would be furious and I took precautions, in case he tried something. It's not like I hadn't seen the warning flags before…"

She'd done it to protect herself really, not wanting to get any closer. But Hunter didn't see it that way. He didn't care that she offered to show him how to make the serum himself, if he chose to keep taking it. He only saw her abandoning him.

"I just didn't know what he was capable of," she finished, words hollowed and weary.

Her heart ached as she thought of all the officers Hunter had killed, dead because she'd provoked him.

"You aren't to blame for the atrocities Hunter committed," Joe offers quietly, words pointed in a way that makes her think he isn't only speaking to her.

She glances at Barry from underneath her lashes, catching the aggrieved expression on his face. Did he blame himself too?

"Caitlin… Can I call you Caitlin?" Joe asks, continuing when she gives a clipped nod. "Did Hunter ever… pressure you into -?"

"No," Caitlin answers, cutting him before he can finish his question. A shiver runs down her spine at the thought, knowing how _lucky_ she was in that sense. Barry and Joe's simultaneous sigh of relief underscores that thought. "He kept saying he wanted me to be with him, not because I felt compelled but because I genuinely wanted him".

She doesn't dare look up to check their expressions, feeling dirty and ashamed, even as she told herself there was no reason to feel that way.

"Cait…"

She jolts at the nickname, her mind immediately going to Ronnie. Except Ronnie isn't here.

It's Barry's voice, soft and compelling, asking for her attention. When she looks at him, she's finally able to take him in properly, see how the years have changed him.

He doesn't look very different from high school, his facial structure sharper and more defined but his eyes, green and warm and kind, are the same. His hair still looks as soft as ever and she almost smiles as she recalls the numerous class sessions she'd spent sneaking glances at him, longing to run her fingers through his hair.

Her heart aches suddenly, for the girl she used to be, unaware of what the future held for her.

"I wouldn't have been able to solve your case, to find you without everything you left behind. Without you taking the risks you did to send that message out…" He sounds so _sincere_ and it kills her. Didn't he see how guilty she was? How she'd enabled Hunter?

"You're so incredibly brave," he says, almost breathless with emotion, emotion that pricks at her skin with its warmth and understanding.

"'Discretion is the better part of valor,'" she quotes, trying to sound dismissive but failing. When his brow crinkles in confusion, she clarifies. "Shakespeare's Henry IV. We read it in Ms. Walsh's English class."

Barry flushes. "I don't remember that…"

 _No_ , she thinks. _You wouldn't remember that. Always too busy staring at Felicity Smoak._

Joe coughs meaningfully, eyes flicking from Barry to Caitlin and back.

"Let's continue…"

* * *

When Caitlin leaves the precinct, feeling hollow and cold, Cisco is outside waiting for her.

Joe had offered her use of a safe house, courtesy of Captain Singh and the CCPD but Cisco had already offered his place, insisting it wouldn't be an imposition on him or Cynthia. Caitlin had accepted, if only because the thought of a safe house, lonely and impersonal, made her heart seize with fear. She'd be isolated once again. She didn't want that.

She'd had enough isolation to last her the rest of her life.

When she gets into the passenger seat of Cisco's car, she rolls down the window hurriedly, the slight bout of panic in her chest unfurling as she felt the fresh air on her face. On the car ride over to the precinct, she'd freaked out, feeling like the car itself had started to shrink, the air inside growing thinner and thinner with every inhale and exhale taken by its passengers. It wasn't until she'd leaned over one of the officers at her side and had rolled down the window, that'd she felt her chest loosen, gasping and sucking in greedy lungfuls of air.

She'd never been particularly claustrophobic as a kid, always seeking out new nooks and crannies around the house for a variety of reasons: quiet reading spots, playing hide and seek with her dad, hiding from her mother after one of their fights.

Now, enclosed spaces were just ugly reminders, picking and teasing a wound still fresh and raw. When she looked through the windows of a car, all she could see in her mind's eye was a lab from beyond thick glass. She could imagine that the stale air inside was the same recycled air she'd been breathing for three years.

Cisco shivers when he settles into the driver's seat beside her, glancing at her and the open window in askance. He doesn't say anything though, instead turning the ignition and guiding them out of the parking lot and onto the streets.

As he drives, Caitlin watches the streets of Central City pass by, trying to determine how much the city has changed since she last walked its streets. The evening air is cool on her cheeks, rustling her hair. She closes her eyes for a moment, wishing the sun were still out so she could feel the warmth of it on her face. When she opens her eyes again, seeking moonlight, the sky is a darkening royal blue, only a couple stars visible and twinkling brightly in the expanse.

There wouldn't be many more throughout the night, she thought, glancing at the bright lights of the city around her. Growing up in the outskirts of Central City, she'd been able to see more of the stars naturally but even that couldn't compare to what she could see when she looked through her telescope, the one she had built with her dad.

She'd spent so many nights in her backyard with him, trying to name the constellations.

Turning to Cisco, she picks at the ends of her sleeves. "Cisco…" she starts, voice rough after having spent the day recounting her tale. "What happened to all my stuff?"

In the chaos of it all, she hadn't gotten the chance to ask. She hadn't spoken with her mother either, although she'd been told that she had visited Caitlin while she'd been asleep that first day in the hospital. The officers had barely allowed Cisco in, only relenting in the end because Caitlin had insisted on him being family. Cause he was, he was the family she'd chosen and seeing him again…

It was the happiest Caitlin had been in a long time.

They'd spent the afternoon just crying and talking and holding onto one another, both afraid that if they let go, the illusion would shatter.

When she glances at him, taking in the familiar long hair, the bronze tone of his skin alight in the glow of the streetlights, brown eyes warm and concerned as they glanced at her, she can't help but feel grateful. She'd hoped she would someday see him again, of course, but…

Somewhere along the line, she'd lost faith. The scenario had become nothing short of a miracle, in her mind. One that seemed impossible, unlikely to ever occur. Yet it had and now, here she was, sitting in Cisco's car. Safe and alive and _free._

"When you… went missing, your mom asked me to pack up your stuff," he starts tensely, tone belying the simplicity of his words. Cisco knew how complicated her relationship with her mother was. From his tone, Caitlin had no doubt in her mind that he now had his own complicated relationship with Carla too.

He continues, glancing at her guiltily. "I've kept all your stuff but uhhh… I gave all the boxes to Barry to look through when he came to speak with me about reopening the case, I thought it would give him some clues."

Caitlin blinks, feeling faintly bewildered. Somehow, everything lead back to Barry Allen.

"He asked to come by the house tomorrow to return them. That okay?" Cisco asks after a moment of silence.

Caitlin nods, turning back to the views outside her window.

It should bother her, the thought of her belongings being combed through by a virtual stranger. But it doesn't and she's not sure whether that easy acceptance comes from the fact that her belongings, with all the clues she'd hidden away in them, had helped Barry find her or if it was just Barry himself.

He put her at ease. She couldn't say that for a lot of people. She'd have said it was an ease borne of familiarity except… she didn't really know anything about Barry's life now. All she knew was that because of him, she sat here today, traveling under the light of the moon.

But perhaps she owed it to herself to find out…

Who was Barry Allen?

* * *

 **NOTE: AHHHH only 3 more chapters left! Thank you all for your continued support and all the lovely reviews! They've really kept me motivated on this story and I really appreciate them. Let me know what you think of this chapter! Until next time.**


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